Spell Monkey
by boysenberry
Summary: Scorpius has spent the better part of a decade cultivating his friendship with Rose Weasley.  So when he realises it's time to take it to the next level, he's certainly not taking any chances...
1. The Polyjuice Plan

**Disclaimer: not mine. obviously :)**

* * *

><p>"And that was the third one today!"<p>

Scorpius grinned as he leaned against the carved wooden desk. _Ms R. Weasley_, a small sign read in neat gold letters. Of all the things Rose had enjoyed most about her new promotion, those gold letters were the ones she treasured most. Or rather, the two gold letters that _didn't_ appear: the 'i' and the 's', finally gone from the middle of the first word. No more Hogwarts _Miss Weasley_ for her.

"Honestly, Scorp, you should wait around for the next one. I would seriously take bets on how soon he'll turn up. And what gnome-forsaken pick-up line he'll come up with this time. What was the last one again?"

"_Did it hurt when you fell from heaven_..." Scorpius said drily, picking up a sugar quill from Rose's desk. She looked at him curiously. "You've only told me this story twice now."

He was rewarded with a blush, spreading from the freckles on her nose to the roots of that damned Weasley hair. She picked up another quill – Merlin knew there were enough of them on that scattered desk of hers – and started fiddling with it between her fingers. "I'm going on about it, aren't I?"

He laughed. "Maybe a little."

"It's going to my head, that's all," she admitted. "I mean, three guys trying to hit on me in one day? Really?"

"It's certainly very flattering."

She sighed, dropping the quill and picking up a stack of parchment instead. She leafed through it quickly, fussily, her eyes firmly fixed on one spot. "It's just... well. I know I'm not exactly pick-up line material, you know –"

"Hogwarts was three years ago, Miss Weasley."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, reaching over to swat him with her parchment. "I'm over all that. No, I just mean it seems odd, coming so soon after my promotion and all. Now that I think about it I probably shouldn't get too worked up about it. They're probably trying to steal the Department's secrets or something. Besides, it's not like I'd go out with gits like them anyway, so this isn't exactly a breakthrough for me –"

"I'm sorry, but '_Do you have a map, because I just got lost in your eyes'_? You honestly think anyone who can come up with that crap is smart enough to sneak into the Department of International Magical Cooperation –"

"Who's stealing my department's secrets?"

The booming voice echoed through the small chamber and Scorpius swore he saw Rose's papers start shaking. "Mr, uh, Mr Crawley!"

Rose's hulk of a boss reached for the scruff of Scorpius' neck – and Scorpius was not ashamed to admit that he leapt out of the way like a terrified rabbit. "Wrong answer, Malfoy. If I wanted to steal Department secrets I'd hardly have to sneak around, now would I?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes, sir, you're right of course, sir. I'll, uh –"

"Just be going, I hope," and this time Crawley's hand came down to pat him sharply on the back. Scorpius breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sure you have mysteries to be solving down in that dungeon of yours."

So Rose wasn't going to lose her job because of him. Not until next time he came to visit, anyway.

And since the pick-up lines hadn't worked, there were going to be a _lot_ of next times...

* * *

><p>Scorpius wandered back to the elevator, still lost in thought.<p>

"Any luck?"

He jumped. "Finch! What are you doing all the way up here?"

"Talking to you, good sir! And how went your meeting with the lovely Ms W? Or should I say, _meetings_?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "If you want to smarm like a politician you're welcome to stay on this level."

The lift shuddered as the metal doors clanked shut, and suddenly they were hurtling downwards. Scorpius reached for the overhead handle instinctively as they neared his least favourite turn – after four visits today to Rose's new office he certainly wasn't planning on being slammed into the wall _again_.

Finch wasn't so lucky. "Dammit, that happened on the way up, too," he muttered, rubbing his head. "Man, I wish I had your luck. Pretty glad it's five o'clock, I've had the world's worst day."

"Luck?" Scorpius asked in surprise. "Haven't heard that one before. And I'm feeling even less lucky than usual after today..."

He received a pat on the back for his efforts. "Cheer up, mate, you'll get there. So I take it the, uh, meetings didn't go too well, then?"

"She nearly swatted me the third time! And she called me a git, and said she'd never go out with me –"

"You or them?"

"Well, them, but it's the same thing, isn't it –"

"No, you idiot, this is excellent news, it means she isn't into gits who use cheesy pick-up lines. What are you doing tonight? Don't answer that, you're inviting me over for drinks. And while I'm there we are going to plan out the rest of this mad escapade, because knowing you you'll just keep choosing a succession of pick-up lines and wonder why she keeps smacking you in the face. No, don't object, it's settled."

The elevator stopped, but it wasn't their floor. "Hang on, mate, I haven't clocked out yet, I have to go back down to the Department –"

Finch pulled a small piece of parchment from his robes, waved his wand and before Scorpius could say a word the memo was flying into the nearest elevator and Finch was dragging him to the fireplaces. "Scorpius' flat," he said clearly as the silver powder disappeared into the green flames, and once again Scorpius was being pulled along with no clear idea what was happening.

He straightened as he entered his flat, narrowly avoiding tripping over Finch, who'd fallen onto his carpet. Which wasn't odd. It happened nearly every time Finch came over.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked politely, as Finch gathered himself up off the floor.

"Got anything stronger?"

"_Accio_ butterbeer," he called out. "Remind me why you're invading my flat? And soiling my carpet?"

"Because I can't exactly soil the carpet at my grandparents' place, can I? It's like bloody Eton in there. Wish I could afford to move out like you."

"Maybe if you didn't spend your entire paycheck on Firewhiskey at the Leaky..."

Finch laughed. Since he'd started work at the Ministry he'd been staying with his grandparents, a rich Muggle family who lived in the centre of London. He'd graduated Hogwarts a year ahead of Scorpius, and had become his unofficial guide when he, too, had joined the Department of Mysteries. No-one else seemed particularly inclined to share their tips and secrets...

"Anyway, smart-arse, I'm invading your flat because you're reneging on a promise you made to me."

"What promise?"

"Not to be a total prat when you asked her out!"

Scorpius sat down, sighing. "At least it wasn't me who was totally humiliated."

"Where's your subtlety, mate? Did you honestly think she wouldn't notice if three different guys started hitting on her in the space of, what, five hours?"

"She thinks they're trying to steal department secrets, she doesn't suspect me –"

Finch placed his head in his hands, then changed his mind and took a swig of butterbeer instead. "That's not the point, mate, you've got to be subtle about this. Smooth. And if you keep going up to check her reaction after every bloke it's only a matter of time before she reaches the obvious conclusion!"

"So what am I supposed to do? I already realised the pick-up lines weren't going to work, you don't need to tell me that too."

"You can try not overwhelming her for a start!"

Okay, maybe he had been a little too enthusiastic to get his plan off the ground. But he couldn't exactly be blamed for that, could he? He'd been Rose's best friend for so long – and her secret, unrequited lover for most of that time – that when this idea had popped into his head, he'd jumped at the chance to show her how he felt.

Anonymously.

On the other side of the bench, Finch put down his glass. Scorpius could feel his gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye. He knew what he was going to say: _Lose the disguises, mate, and man up and ask her out for yourself_. But he wasn't brave, he wasn't confident, he wasn't Finch –

"Look, Scorp, I know you think I'm going to tell you to give up on this stupid plan, but I figure you're going to go through with it whether you have my blessing or not so the least I can do is help you not screw up completely. What's the plan from here?"

"Uh..."

What _was_ the plan from here? He hadn't exactly thought past the first few pick-up lines, to be honest. And collecting hair on the Muggle subway, so Rose wouldn't recognise anyone she knew in the wizarding world. Which was sort of creepy, and he'd gotten a few strange looks – but how was he supposed to know Muggles didn't dust off each other's jackets all the time? They certainly got up close and personal enough in peak hour...

"Why don't you tell me?" he asked suddenly. "You're the one who's always getting girls. I've had exactly one girlfriend, and that was Moira in fifth year for about three weeks, and all that happened was I realised I was mad for Rose bloody Weasley. And _she_ dumped _me_, so if you have any tips for not getting rejected by girls, you have a captive audience right now."

Finch grinned.

Uh oh.

* * *

><p>Scorpius stepped into the elevator, whistling. Today was the day. He'd done exactly as Finch had suggested – even if his advice had meant a splitting headache the next morning, thank Merlin for hangover potion – and waited a week before making his next move, but now it was time to act.<p>

A small, dark-haired wizard stood in the corner. "Malfoy," he acknowledged, before burying his head once more in the _Daily Prophet_.

"Ackerley."

The ride passed in silence. Level 7... level 8... finally the elevator shuddered to a stop, its metal grate opening with a rusty groan, and Scorpius and Ackerley stepped out into the corridor.

"Oh – Malfoy. Bletchley wanted to speak to you yesterday. Might want to check in with him before you start."

Scorpius rolled his eyes as Ackerley disappeared into the Entrance. Bob Bletchley was possibly the most excruciatingly boring boss in the entire Ministry. He always tried his hardest to look attentive and respectful around him, but when it was eight in the morning and he'd stayed up nearly all night sweating about how to approach Rose – well. He wasn't one hundred percent confident he'd be able to keep his eyes open.

The black door appeared again, and Scorpius made his way to what was affectionately known as the _Other_ Chamber: the row of offices where wizards too set in their ways to do any significant research were sent to live out their days shuffling paperwork. Wizards like Bob Bletchley.

"Mr Bletchley?" he called, after three short knocks. This door, too, held a gold-lettered sign, but unlike the one on Rose's desk, the letters were peeling, the right corner of the frame looked slightly... chewed?... and the –

"Yes?"

A portly wizard opened the door, his full beard not doing much to distract attention from the few straggling hairs on the top of his head. Scorpius, as always, repressed the urge to snigger. It wasn't his fault he was losing his hair. Or that his bald spot resembled a rather large chicken.

"Ah, Malfoy, come in, come in. Got my message then, did you? Ackerley catch up with you this morning, eh?"

"Yes, sir. In the elevator."

Bletchley peered at Scorpius. "Yes, well, it's about the elevator that I wanted to talk to you, actually. You've been spending a lot of time out of the office lately, I've noticed. Sit, sit. Y'don't mind if I take out your file, do you?"

Aw, crap. He was about to be _performance managed_.

"No, sir," Scorpius said with a straight face. "What seems to be the problem?"

Sighing, Bletchley leafed through the file. Scorpius couldn't help notice how thin it was. "I'll be blunt, Mr Malfoy. You haven't done an awful lot for this department in your time here, y'know. What can you tell me about your progress on your orientation project?"

Scorpius was half tempted to tell him it was classified. "Uh, it's progressing quite well, sir. I've been thinking of writing up some of my preliminary results in the next month or two –"

"Preliminary results?" Bletchley shook his head. "After three years in this department, you mean to tell me that you're at the stage of releasing preliminary results? Honestly, Malfoy, I expected better of you... your father might have stood on the wrong side of the war but he always showed promise... as did your mother, oh, she would have achieved great things here, great things..."

If he nodded, the motion would keep his eyes open, right? He heard this speech every time he came into this blasted office, and it hadn't exactly got him to write up his results in all the three years Bletchley had been saying it.

"...very diligent, but your projects never seem to lead to results for the Department..."

It wasn't through lack of trying. It was because he had literally nothing to submit. They expected him to stop time for them. Literally. That was his orientation project, the one they'd given him his first day on the job, when he'd been gearing himself up for a few years of doing the bloody filing. _Oh, hey, new guy, won't you just _stop Time_ for us? The whole passage of time thing has been annoying us a bit, get rid of it, won't you?_

"_..._take some pride in your work, which doesn't seem to be displaying any of the elegance we expect..."

So Scorpius had completely ignored them. He figured if he worked on his project one day a week, he could spend the other four doing something slightly less impossible. Like filing.

"...what d'you think, Malfoy?"

Scorpius was good enough at this game to not let his start show on his face. "I completely agree, sir, I'll get right onto it."

To his surprise, his favourite tactic didn't work, because Bletchley suddenly started scribbling on his file. "That's what you say every month, Malfoy, but my sup– uh, I'm starting to want to see the results of your research, or, uh, we're going to have to think very seriously about your future here in this department."

Bloody hell.

They were bringing Bletchley's superiors into this? He was about to be fired. He might as well submit his resignation now and get it over with. There was no way in Little Whinging he'd be able to get even the slightest bit of information out of this stupid project. And where was he supposed to go after being fired from the Department of Mysteries? Magical Maintenance? Yeah, dad would really appreciate that...

Bugger it. His plans with Rose could wait another day – or rather, Roland Knightley's plans could wait. Scorpius Malfoy needed to talk to his best friend.

* * *

><p>A small <em>cheep<em> was the first of the warnings, then the entire room erupted into a chorus of whistles, chirps and bells. That was one of the advantages of working in the Time Chamber – you always knew exactly when lunchtime was.

Finch looked up from his position opposite Scorpius. He hadn't been there all morning – in fact, he hadn't even been in the Chamber until nearly eleven. Scorpius knew he wasn't allowed to mention it, but he'd had a sneaking suspicion for a while that Finch was starting to take on full-blown Unspeakable projects. It didn't do much to lift his mood. Even Finch, his buddy, his best mate, even Finch was moving ahead in his career while Scorpius languished in the trainee corner.

He looked guiltily at the small jar he was supposed to have been working on. He hadn't, of course; who could stop Time? Instead, he'd messed around with a new spell he'd been working on. It wasn't much – nothing the Bell Jar couldn't do – but he'd been curious about whether he could change the _acceleration_ of the Jar's effect. It got boring watching that damn egg/bird transform at the same pace, day in, day out.

"Going to do your magic?" Finch asked, grinning.

Scorpius shrugged. "I might just go have a chat to her as myself today. I haven't seen her all week – we've got a lot to catch up on."

"Suit yourself," and Finch went back to his work, whistling the same damn tune Scorpius had before his disastrous meeting with Bletchley. Scorpius cursed his cheerfulness half-heartedly as he left the room.

Ten minutes later he was knocking on Rose's door – only to have the door flung open in his face.

"Rose!"

"Scorpius!"

She looked down at the papers in her hand, just as he shoved a glass of office punch vaguely in her direction. "Want to go have lunch?"

"Actually, Scorp, I've got this meeting and –"

Right. The high-flying magical law graduate was hardly going to put having lunch with a bloody spell monkey over an Important Business Meeting. He suddenly wished he hadn't come at all.

First Bletchley, and now even Rose was too busy for him.

"No worries," he mumbled. Dumping the two cups of punch on someone's desk – he didn't really care whose – he walked away quickly, willing himself not to trip while she was watching.

"Scorp?" he heard her call out uncertainly, but he didn't think he had the nerve to turn around without breaking down. So he didn't look back, didn't even look up until he reached the safety of his elevator. He watched the turn approach bleakly, not bothering to steady himself as the elevator turned sharply and started its descent.

Because this definitely wasn't his lucky day.

Back at his flat, Scorpius threw his backpack down with a scowl. The rest of the day had been just as productive as the first part – less, in fact, since Finch had gone all responsible on him and told him to work on his project. It was all very well for Finch. All he'd had to do was some Time-Turner refinements. Scorpius wasn't even sure what his project had involved – since he'd finished his work before Scorp had even been recruited!

He looked around the room critically. Usually he found the flat comforting; today it just looked empty, his years of automatically cleaning up after himself at Malfoy Manor reflected in the neat row of photographs on the mantlepiece, the bench, wiped clean and glowing dully in the light from the window – even the way the couch made a perfect right angle with the coffee table, dammit.

He suddenly felt the urge to shift it – just slightly – just enough to disturb the perfect order of the place. All that nagging from his parents might have left him a very tidy flat, but what was the point of that if your life was going exactly nowhere?

Dammit.

He sat down, next to the couch instead of on it, pulling his bag along the floor as he went. Reaching into the front pocket, he pulled out a small vial.

"Essence of Knightley," he whispered to himself. Roland Knightley was a _Daily Prophet_ intern, just starting to make a name for himself, though he'd only been writing bit pieces up until now, the ones in the middle of the paper where they didn't always bother with the attribution because no-one read them anyway –

Rose's words flashed into his mind. "_Actually, Scorp, I've got this meeting..._"

No.

Knightley had to be perfect. Rose was _going places_, she wouldn't go out with a lowly _Prophet_ intern. Knightley had to be – special. Someone who was going places too. Someone who was just – bloody – awesome. Someone like –

– Her uncle Charlie, the fricking dragon tamer. _Congratulations, Roland_, Scorpius thought with a grin. _You just got yourself a promotion_.

He'd made his name in – it couldn't be Romania, or she'd mention him to Charlie and the game would be over before it began. Uh, they trained dragons in Wales, right?

Roland was gonna be epic. If a spell monkey from level 9 wasn't worthy of Rose's time – and Scorpius couldn't exactly blame her – then only the best would be. Roland was rich, successful, handsome, funny –

Handsome? Come to think about it, Scorpius didn't know what this particular man even looked like! Fair enough, it hadn't mattered when Roland was just an intern but Roland Knightley, dragon tamer, needed to look good. Really good. As in, Rose was going to be falling over herself to date this guy.

In a way she'd never fall for Scorpius Malfoy.

* * *

><p>Rose sat alone at a table in the front window, reading the latest edition of whatever country's wizarding paper she was working on this week. Scorpius – as Roland – checked his reflection nervously in the mirror, then checked himself. Roland didn't get nervous before chatting up random girls. Roland just barged in and –<p>

"Mind if I sit here?" he was asking, before he even realised he'd walked up to her table.

She looked up. "Uh, sure," she said politely. "Have a seat."

And she went back to her paper.

A setback for Scorpius Malfoy, he thought determinedly, but not for Roland Knightley. "Roland," he said smoothly, then risked a cheeky grin over the top of her newspaper.

"Rose," she said shortly.

"Anything interesting today?" he asked, nodding at the paper. Okay, so it wasn't exactly loverboy material, but even the most charming dragon tamers had to start somewhere.

Finally she looked up. "Goblin uprisings over Gringotts wages."

Oh, please. As if there wasn't anything more interesting than that. Whenever _he_ asked her that question she picked the most bizarre stories she could find. _Cat lady sued over experimental whiskers_, _Blast-ended skrewt at centre of international custody case_, that type of thing.

"There go all my fantasies of being a rich banker one day," he joked, catching her eye, and she gave a reluctant grin.

"Not on the Gringotts payroll, then, are you?"

"Ha. I wish. What are they complaining about, only getting fifty Galleons an hour instead of two hundred?"

Scorpius got the sudden impression she wanted to swat him. Maybe that had been a bad move – making jokes to Hermione Granger's daughter about racial stereotypes. But it was fine, he reassured himself. Knightley wasn't to know her soft spot for underappreciated magical races.

Besides, his fantastic good looks would easily make up for a few slip-ups.

In front of him, Rose pursed her lips. "This is actually quite a landmark case," she said seriously. "Goblins might run Gringotts, but their payscales have been regulated by the Goblin Liaison Office since the 1668 Urgrog Rebellion. Regulation was probably the best move back then, compared to the obvious alternative – but since Voldemort reinstated the pre-1865 charts..."

This was her way of responding to a guy trying to chat her up? Bore him to tears and remind him of bloody Binns' neverending lessons?

"Aww, cheer up, sweetheart, with someone as smart as you are championing their cause I'msure they have nothing to worry about." This was easier than it looked! All he had to do was say all the compliments he wasn't allowed to say as himself! "Why don't I buy you a coffee and you can tell me all about it?"

Hmm. If only he knew how to wink...

"I'll have tea, thank you. And I can get it myself," she told him sharply, before summoning a waitress.

"Suit yourself," said Scorpius, as she took down Rose's order. "The same for me, thanks," he added to the waitress.

She left, and Scorpius was relieved to note that she'd put down her newspaper. This was his chance. His one opportunity to impress the girl he'd adored for six years. And if he failed –

Well. He'd have to go on another mission to the Muggle subway.

"So, Rose," he began, leaning back in what he hoped was a suave and confident manner. "What else interests you, besides your obvious passion for goblin rights?"

She grinned. "Elf rights, centaur rights, mermaid rights –"

"Say no more! You're obviously a damsel in shining armour, come to bring equality and fairness to all creatures great and small..."

"It's why I work up there," she told him, reverting to serious mode as she waved in the general direction of the Ministry office. "Treatment of non-human magical folk varies so much in Europe that even a hundred kilometres could be the difference between being slaughtered for sport and being legally accepted as almost human. My goal is to see Europe legally united against cruelty and discrimination just because we're _different_."

Scorpius could have listened to Rose for hours. In fact, he'd done just that on multiple occasions in the past – he figured if she had to sit through his terrible Time analogies then he could jolly well return the favour. But Scorpius was Rose's friend, and Knightley – well, Knightley wanted to get into Rose's pants.

He snuck a glance at her chest and was strangely disappointed when she didn't catch him.

Damn oblivious Rose.

It was time to introduce his biggest weapon – Finch's trademarked flirting tips, which he swore had absolutely nothing to do with the battered copy of _12 Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches_ he kept in his bathroom.

"_Touch her arm gently, so she knows you want to get physical._" That didn't sound too bad. And neither did getting physical, so Scorpius uncrossed his arms and casually rested one on the table between them.

"That's so amazing," he said, half sincerely and half wincing at the tripe coming out of his mouth. "Say, I work with magical creatures too. Not the nearly-human ones, but I think they're pretty smart nonetheless."

"Most magical creatures are - with the possible exception of blast-ended skrewts."

Was that a teasing note in her voice? And when he said teasing, he meant something like _Merlin's pants, is she flirting with me_? His heartbeat quickened. How come he could never think straight around her – when she started playing battle of wits he completely lost his!

Well, he was fine when he forgot about the whole 'she's a girl' thing.

It was only when she leaned over and he got an eyeful of her bra that his brain went flying out the window.

"Better than skrewts, I promise."

Leaning forward was a good thing, right? She had to be interested. If Scorpius' heart had been beating quickly before, now it was a bloody bludger, hammering against his ribcage like it wanted to – uh, escape and smash her face in? Maybe not...

_Oh, bugger it_. Pretending it was no big deal, he moved his hand over and – gasp! – touched her arm.

She noticed. And looked over at him in shock.

Then she smiled. "So what are they, then?"

Oh, that was _absolutely_ a flirtatious glint in her eye right now. He raised an eyebrow in return, unable to keep a grin off his face as he played his trump card. "Dragons."

She stared at him for a moment, and Scorpius suddenly had the strangest feeling that she was... disappointed?

She stood up._ Wait, what_? Thirty seconds ago she'd been gazing into his eyes and suddenly she was leaving?

"It was very nice to meet you, uh, Roland." She smiled tightly. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry, I have a meeting now that I have to attend."

She couldn't escape now! "Let me walk you to the Ministry," he offered desperately – er, no, _suavely_. Yes. Suavely. He coughed.

Smooth.

"I'll be quite fine, thank you."

No need to act desperate. "See you around, then, Rose." But then – just because he was feeling particularly courageous today – "I'm heading out to the Leaky tomorrow after work – if you're up for a good time I'm sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves for the rest of the night..."

Yes, there it was: the immediate eyeroll, quickly disguised by the lowering of her eyelashes, then the turn of her head as she gave him a quick smile and walked away from him.

What the hell had just happened?


	2. The Sugar Quill

**Disclaimer: etc etc**

**A/N: I've decided it's probably easier to update this on Friday/Saturday nights (it fits in better with my cycle of assessment at uni) but I feel guilty leaving almost two weeks in between updates... so I'm uploading this chapter in two parts, one today, one on the weekend, and hopefully after that I'll have regular updates with proper chapter lengths :)**

* * *

><p>"I'm coming over," warned Rose's head in the fireplace, eyes tightly shut. Ever since that incident with George, Angelina and vibrating stuffed monkey, she'd stopped popping over to people's flats unannounced – something for which Scorpius was very grateful right now, going by the state of his lounge room floor...<p>

A thin blanket lay crumpled next to the coffee table. Scorpius grinned ruefully to himself; in hindsight, his melodramatic self-pity of last night seemed rather pathetic.

Because Rose was coming over, wasn't she? Whatever happened between Knightley and Rose, it had exactly zero effect on Scorpius Malfoy.

Scorpius was rather proud of the Polyjuice Plan.

Oh. Right. Rose. "Give me five, I need to tidy up a bit."

Rose's head nodded, and disappeared. Five minutes! He picked up the blanket frantically and shoved it in the laundry. Next came a pile of Ministry papers, the clothes he'd been wearing for the last two days and – Scorpius was ashamed of the sight of it – three empty bowls of Weasleys' Instant Mood-Lifter Scoops.

He immediately resolved to start moodily sipping on Firewhiskeys instead.

"Coming, ready or not," came Rose's singsong voice, as she stepped out of the fire and the last of the newly cleaned dishes floated into his cupboard. The door gave a guilty thud as it closed.

"Good morning, my bestest friend from Hogwarts," he said immediately, then grimaced. "Wow. I hope that wasn't as squeaky as it sounded."

"Squeakier," Rose confirmed, plopping herself onto his couch. "Merlin, I'm exhausted. You'd think I'd be used to the Weasley brood by now, but no."

"It's times like this I'm glad my parents restrained themselves to just me."

She grinned. "So do I. But then I wouldn't have Hugo to make me look good at family reunions."

He stood up immediately and marched to the drinks cupboard. "The whole red-head brigade, huh? I think this calls for a Firewhiskey."

Rose hesitated, then asked for a butterbeer instead. "I don't know if I'm up for the strong stuff tonight," she confessed, rubbing her head. "I've had enough Firewhiskey today to last me a .lifetime."

"You don't mean to tell me that the great Ms R. Weasley allowed herself to become intoxicated at a family gathering?"

Rose swatted him - or she would have, anyway, if she'd been six feet closer. "You know perfectly well it wasn't my fault. Fred and James decided that now that Hugo's got his first job it's time to start having 'adult' lunches..."

Scorpius laughed out loud. "That brings up images of Fred and James parading around in their mothers' lingerie. Images I didn't particularly want to have in my head, thanks."

"Oh, and you think I want to think about Aunt Ginny's underwear, do you?" Rose demanded, raising an eyebrow. "No, thankfully everyone stayed fully clothed - for once. Their little piece of bloody-irritating-but-also-bloody-marvellous magic this time was transforming all the water in a 10-yard radius to Firewhiskey."

"When you say all the water..."

"I mean all the water. Not just the stuff in our glasses. I mean every single drop of water. Do you know how much water goes into preparing a meal for thirty people? It was in the gravy, the pumpkin, the - they even carved a couple of 'whiskey-melons' and carried them around on their chests for half an hour. So I didn't even get my bloody watermelon!"

Sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch - Knightley might have been happy to pull a few moves, but Scorpius was definitely going to play it safe - he handed her a glass of warm butterbeer and took a sip of his own. Rose gulped hers down, then wiped her mouth roughly in a move that would have made her father proud.

"Attractive," he said drily.

"Oh, shut up, Scorp, I spend enough time at work trying to be ladylike, surely you're not going to make me do it here, too?"

Work - right. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. He probably should ask her about that -

"Anyway, I'm not finished - did you honestly think a story about one of Fred and James' pranks would last less than thirty seconds?" She leaned back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Turns out - and both of them are perfectly aware of this, by the way - that not only is it illegal to produce that amount of Firewhiskey in a private home without a permit, but it's also on the list of restricted substances to produce by entirely magical means. So no sooner had we settled down for a peaceful Weasley get-together -"

He snorted.

"- than Burns and Blackhall from Magical Law Enforcement were knocking on our front door demanding the surrender of the perpetrators into bloody protective custody! They're damn lucky there are so many of us in the Ministry - and that James is Uncle Harry's son, and Blackhall wouldn't dare arrest the son of the Chosen One," she added under her breath.

"Tut, tut," Scorpius told her, pretending to peer over imaginary glasses. "Using family influence to get out of jail time. Your cousins should be ashamed of themselves."

She scowled at him. "Just get me another butterbeer."

"You know you love them." You know you love me, he'd been about to say, but he wasn't entirely sure he could pull it off casually without a tell-tale stumble...

He ducked his head into the pantry. "Speaking of family get-togethers. What are you doing Saturday week - wait, no, the week after?" he called out, pouring another two glasses. Butterbeer on tap - one of the surprisingly few advantages of having family money in a block of flats filled with starving twenty-somethings.

"Dunno, actually, I might have to check my oh-so-busy schedule. I get booked up so far in advance, you know. What are you offering?"

He looked up and was amused to see a faint blush slowly crossing her cheeks. Despite her jokes, he knew she was genuinely pleased with her new job - and the recognition that came with it, even if it did mean a much higher workload than her previous one. He knew she didn't like to 'go on about it', though, so he didn't push the matter.

"Five hours at the Malfoy dinner table. Black tie, probably, although I should probably confirm that. You'd be my plus-one, since no-one else seems interested in going with me. Remember, you almost came the year before last, but then you got that assignment to Paris?"

"That was last year," she corrected him absentmindedly. He noticed she'd picked up a sugar quill. "Do you mind if I get back to you on that one? I'd love to go, but I do actually have a work function on -"

Scorpius willed himself to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. "Sure, don't worry about it. It was just a thought, no pressure."

She must have seen the disappointed look on his face, dammit, because she hastened to reassure him. "It's nothing definite, Scorp, I might still be able to make it. Or what about if I came in late, after work?"

He laughed, a little reluctantly. "What kind of boss makes you work weekends?"

"Oh, it's just old Prindle's farewell." She rolled her eyes. "He's Senior Head of one of the offices, I don't remember which. He used to be Head of the Department a few years ago, actually. But they fired him because of all the disastrous office parties he used to throw. Snuck in a jobberknoll the week before I started, the entire bloody Ministry had to communicate by memo until they captured the damn thing - but I'm going on about work again, aren't I?"

"I'm not entirely sure what the point of that story was, but you are entirely welcome to show up as late as you want. Mum and Dad wouldn't dream of throwing a party that ended before two in the morning." He raised his glass. "To parent-supplied alcohol!"

Rose giggled. Yes, her cheeks were definitely flushed. She put down the butterbeer she'd been cradling and stretched her arm out over the couch, her fingertips just managing to reach his shoulder. Not that she gave any sign of noticing, of course.

Scorpius shifted awkwardly, trying unsuccessfully to casually lean closer without her noticing. Unless -

He looked at her face again - the way the corners of her mouth turned up distractedly, the flecks of her eyes dancing in the lamp-light, her hair thrown out over the armrest.

The way his heart was beating stupidly fast at the sight of his ever-so-slightly tipsy best friend sprawled out over his couch.

Because this could be his chance - she'd rejected Knightley for some bizarre and inexplicable reason that he hadn't even tried to think through yet. But what if he didn't have to? What if it didn't matter? What if he could - what if he didn't need Knightley to - what if she was interested in -

"So I met this guy the other day," Rose announced cheerfully to the ceiling.

- him, Scorpius Malfoy -

Wait, what?

He tried to say something, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. His heart was still hammering against his chest, but it was a slower, stronger beat now, a curious tension replacing the frantic desperation of before. He focused on the sound, trying to calm himself before he answered her.

"Well?" She turned to face him. "Aren't you curious?"

"Of course," he answered finally, relieved to have got the words out without stumbling. "Tell - tell me everything."

"Well, he was a bit of a git," she said bluntly. He tried not to wince.

"Uh -"

"He wasn't that bad, really. He listened to my goblin rants. Even your eyes start to droop after a few hours of that."

"A few hours? Just how long did you spend with this guy?"

She waved her hand vaguely. "Just long enough for him to tell me some crock story about dragon training."

So she hadn't believed him, huh? That was interesting... "What made you think he'd made it up?"

"He said he was a dragon tamer, Scorp! Do you know how many dragon trainers there are in Britain? About twenty, and Uncle Charlie's introduced me to practically all of them."

"That doesn't mean he was lying, I mean maybe he was just exaggerating, maybe he just cleans their stables or something -"

She snorted. "Shows how much you know about dragons. Of course they're not kept in stables, what kind of inhumane conditions do you think we keep them in? Dragons need space to - oh, whatever, Scorp. It's just..."

"Sugar quill?" Scorpius offered after a minute, not quite sure how to prompt her to continue.

She waved her hands. "I keep getting my hopes raised - and then trampled all over. Remember those guys from just after I got my new office, the ones who kept hitting on me? And I was so excited. And then I realised -" she snatched the sugar quill out of his hands - "and then I realised it was just because of my stupid promotion, and -"

"Rose, you know that's totally untrue, any man would be lucky to have you -"

And suddenly she was sobbing onto his shoulder and Scorpius had no idea what was going on. Her hair tickled his nose, making him want to sneeze, and the angle between her head and his neck was damned awkward, but overall he didn't mind the feeling.

"He seemed like a, you know, a bit of a player, but then he listened to my Gringotts rant and he seemed like he was actually interested. But he pulled that dragon crap and I realised he was just like the others. Just when I thought my love life was finally going somewhere!"

Okay. He had no idea what to do in this situation. In nearly ten years of knowing her, he'd never seen her like this. And considering his own situation - well. Relationship advice wasn't exactly his forte. Patting her back and giving her sugar quills hadn't seemed to work, so he decided to go for solid practicality instead.

He thumped her.

"What the hell did you do that for?" She'd lifted her head off his shoulder. And stood up. And was now jabbing her finger in his chest. That was an improvement, right? At least she'd stopped crying. "I'm in the middle of a bloody self-pitying rant, can't you give a girl a little space?"

"You're drunk."

"What's your point?"

"You're reading way too much into this than there actually is."

She threw the sugar quill at him.

"What the hell, Rose?"

"I know I'm overreacting!" she yelled. "He's just a random guy who felt like chatting me up! There is no conspiracy! He is not trying to humiliate me by setting me up! But you're right, I am bloody drunk, thank you Fred and James and your damn butterbeer on tap, and I haven't had a boyfriend in two years so I think I have the right to have a bloody rant every now and then!"

Scorpius stared at her in shock.

"Hang on, two years? The last one you told me about was Vern McKinnon in seventh year! Who's the -"

She threw up her hands and marched to the door. "Never mind. I've decided you're right, Scorp. I've been very - stupid. And you've told me just how to fix it."

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

She opened the door. "I'm going to owl Roland Knightley."


	3. The Muggle Jeans

**Disclaimer: JK's.**

**A/N: ...and here is part 2 for me, and chapter 3 for you :)**

* * *

><p>"You can't send that as an interdepartmental memo, you git!"<p>

Finch snatched the piece of parchment from under his quill. "Dear Rose," he read aloud. "I was delighted to receive your latest owl and look forward to meeting you again at - Merlin's pants, Scorp, were you seriously going to send this to Rose?"

"Why not? She sent me a letter, I send her a letter. Isn't that how it works?"

"I was delighted to receive your latest owl?" He put down the note. "First of all, no way in hell would you use the phrase "delighted to receive" in any correspondence whatsoever with a girl under the age of ninety. Secondly, there is no-one named Roland Knightley anywhere in the Ministry, as you should know, so he has no way of sending interdepartmental memos to anyone, let alone his latest paramour. And finally, and you'd better damn well be listening to me here, why the bloody hell do you need to send a reply in the first place?"

"She asked me where she should meet me!"

Finch stared at him wordlessly for a long moment, then, with a long-suffering sigh, placed his head in his hands. When he looked up, he had a scrunched look on his face. Almost pained.

"Alright, Scorp, listen closely, because I'm only going to tell you this once. It is the worst romantic advice you will ever receive in possibly your entire life, but I've decided that your situation merits a slight bending of the rules. Roland Knightley is a player, correct?"

"Uh -"

"Yes, that's correct. Would Roland Knightley send that note?"

"Uh, no, but -"

"No, he wouldn't, because Roland Knightley is a seasoned professional at this sort of thing. If he wants to meet a girl at a bar, he tells her he'll be there and expects her to show up. He possibly expects another ten girls to show up, too, just on the off chance of seeing him, so why would he bother replying to one of the dozens of owls he's probably received today?"

"That goes against every dating principle my mother ever drummed into me."

"Yeah, well, your mother probably doesn't want to see Rose naked, either."

"Knightley doesn't have ten girls hanging after him, anyway," Scorpius argued, changing the subject before it got out of hand.

Finch rolled his eyes. "Rose doesn't know that."

"She will when she sees me standing all alone outside the Leaky!"

"That's why you won't be standing all alone outside, you'll be chatting up Longbottom's kid behind the bar." He turned to face a noise at the door. "That's Bletchley there, I've got to go. Look, Scorp, I'm not saying treat her mean to keep her keen or anything like that. But the entire point of Knightley is that he's confident and desirable. Or, in words you might understand, he's _not desperate_. If you can't pull that off, well, how long do you think this charade is going to last?"

* * *

><p>It was dark. It was only eight or nine in the evening, but the Leaky Cauldron was already filled with old men and young women propping up the bar - probably for very different reasons, though. A scruffy blues trio shuffled away in the corner, but the pounding beat of a dance club somewhere nearby gave the probably harmless crooning a darker, almost sinister undertone. Scorpius might have been imagining that, but the pervading smell of cigar smoke and burning incense was very real indeed.<p>

He coughed.

Longbottom's daughter - he never could remember her name, though she couldn't have been more than a couple years behind him at Hogwarts - was indeed behind the bar, but since she was surrounded by an eager gaggle of admirers he couldn't exactly go 'chat her up'.

He felt exposed, standing there in the doorway, the Muggle streetlamp just outside probably casting a spotlight on him to everyone inside.

But he was Knightley, and Knightley was cool, and tonight Knightley was going to get the girl of his dreams.

The girl Scorpius could have had last night, if he weren't such a bloody coward!

He looked around, and was just about to step into the pub, when - "Roland?"

It was Rose, of course. But Rose Weasley as he'd never seen her before.

He was used to fancy dresses - Merlin knew his parents had thrown enough formal dinners over the years for him to be completely immune to their effect by now. And he was used to Rose - because in seven years at school and three out of it, one did end up seeing one's best friend every once in a while. You know, on the odd occasion.

But he was not used to the two of them combined. She'd worn a very pretty green gown for their seventh year dance, one he'd really quite admired because it had shown off her hips to great effect, but -

Merlin's flaming pants on a goblin she was that sexy tonight!

Her dress was white tonight. Pure white, no ornamentation, but short. Oh, was it short - he'd seen her in pyjama tops that were longer than that. Not that they hugged her figure anywhere near the way this one did - and a good thing, too, else he'd be a gibbering mess every time she slept over at his flat.

He didn't have to fake his appreciative stare.

Then he remembered it was Roland she was trying to impress, not him, and the daze that had so fogged his head at the sight of her evaporated.

"That's my name," he said shortly, and her smile faltered.

Dammit! Just because she didn't think it was him didn't mean Scorpius had to ruin his second chance at a shot with her!

He smiled quickly. "And you, my dear, are a stunning white Rose tonight, and I would love to buy you a drink."

Her smile was slower - and infinitely more seductive. Merlin, he was glad he wasn't wearing Muggle jeans tonight. "I'd love that."

They pushed past the crowd around - it wasn't Gussie, was it? - to a quieter corner of the bar, where the older Mrs Longbottom was wiping down some glasses. Scorpius nearly gave her a friendly hello, but he realised just in time that Knightley didn't know Longbottom or his wife...

"What'll it be, Rosie?" he asked, turning to face her. He grinned - it was her least favourite nickname.

She wasn't quick enough to hide her grimace. Scorpius pretended not to notice. "A Spicy Pumpkin, if you've got one," she told Mrs Longbottom directly. "How are things, Hannah?"

She waved her cloth vaguely. "Business is as good as it ever was, as you can see from all the boys crowding around Augusta," she replied, eyes twinkling. "But I'm sure you've got better things to do tonight than talk to the old lady behind the bar. One Spicy Pumpkin, coming right up, and what will you have, young man?"

"Just a butterbeer for now, thanks."

She nodded, and before long their drinks had arrived. Interesting choice on Rose's part, he thought - he'd very rarely seen her drink anything but butterbeer on nights out away from home. He wondered if it had anything to do with the white dress - and her newfound air of confidence.

He decided to take it as a good thing.

"Want to sit down?" he asked over the music, and she nodded. They made their way over to a table in the corner, Rose leading the way.

Were her hips swaying more than normal?

She sat down, and gestured for him to take the seat next to her. That was encouraging, right? Sliding into the seat, Scorpius dared to hope that she'd forgotten her outburst at the cafe. She seemed to be going out of her way to get his attention tonight. Maybe he could pull a few more of Finch's moves...

He contemplated putting his arm around her shoulder. No, that was a bit corny, even for Knightley. The touch on the arm had given him some success the other day -

And then Rose's hand slid across his leg, and he inhaled sharply. Rose was moving even faster than bloody Knightley! He felt her fingers gently brushing against his thigh, meeting hard muscle as they drifted higher, and he wondered what they would feel like against his own softer skin, if Rose were doing this for real, exploring his own body with those beautiful fingers of hers...

He swallowed roughly, and looked up. But she wasn't looking at him, like he'd expected; she was staring across the bar, an absent look on her face, her mind obviously very far from her idling fingers. She wasn't paying attention to him at all!

Suddenly she straightened. Her absent expression was replaced with a focused one, and she stood up abruptly, dragging him up as well.

"What's the matter, honey?" he asked. "We just sat down. We were just about to starting getting to know each other."

"And we can't do that on the dance floor?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

He pulled her closer, relishing the feel of her body pressed up against his. The Leaky Cauldron didn't have a dance floor, not really, but thanks to Hannah and Augusta's influence, couples often got up and danced in the space away from the bar. There were enough people dancing for Rose and Scorpius to be relatively inconspicuous, but Scorpius was still grateful for the anonymity of his disguise. If he was going to be dirty dancing with Rose in the middle of such a popular place, he certainly didn't want his mother finding out about it.

Rose wriggled against him, and once again Scorpius thanked the gods for the freedom of wizard robes. His hand, resting on her back, drifted lower - well, if it was too loud for verbal communication, he'd let his body speak for itself...

Before he knew it, they were at the front of the dancing space, and Rose's arms were around his neck. "You can go as low as you like," she murmured into his ear. Her breath against his neck gave him goosebumps, all down his arm, and he jerked against her. His heartbeat quickened, and it had nothing to do with physical exertion.

"I'm not one to ignore instructions from a lady," he said back, grinning, and his hands slid downwards, brushing her hips and leisurely exploring the rest of her curves.

"Maybe I don't want to be a lady."

Merlin, she was killing him. What on earth was she up to? But then she moved her hips, and he felt every inch of the motion. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment. Who knew when the next time would be that he'd have Rose Weasley's breasts crushed up against his chest, her hips grinding against his on a darkened dance floor, her arms tangled in his hair?

Right now, he really didn't care.

She turned in his arms, so she was facing away from him, towards the bar. Her Weasley-red hair filled his senses, and he breathed in deeply. He had to physically restrain himself from thrusting against her. He was her best friend, dammit, he had no business - no, what? He was Knightley, he reminded himself, trying to clear his head, but gods that didn't mean he had the right to act like a bloody animal around her!

She was still looking at the bar. Once again, Scorpius got the sudden, distinct impression her mind was totally elsewhere. But what was so interesting about the elderly patrons of the Leaky Cauldron?

He looked down at her, just as she looked up at him. A teasing smile fluttered across her lips.

No, it wasn't teasing at all - teasing smiles were for laughing at Hugo when he lost at chess, for afternoons spent watching new recruits trying to navigate the Ministry elevators, for quickly suppressed giggles at Malfoy snobbery at the dinner table. This smile was sultry, and he didn't want sultry, because teasing was for Scorpius and sultry was for Knightley -

And he didn't want to be Knightley any more.

He pulled away. "I need to sit down."

"What?" The sultry smile disappeared, replaced for a fraction of a second by a look he'd seen on her face many times that could only be described as adorable confusion. But adorable confusion didn't belong on a girl wearing that dress, and it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "Sure, if you want."

"Actually, Rose, it's fine. I think I'd better be going home anyway. I've had a nice night tonight, but -" _you're not acting like yourself and if I can't have the real Rose then this damn charade isn't worth the Boomslang skin it's based on_ - "I don't think things would work out between us."

He couldn't believe what he'd just said. In fact, he couldn't decide whether to be proud he'd stuck to his principles or to kick himself in the nuts for blowing his one good chance at seeing Rose Weasley naked.

But seeing her naked had never been the plan! The whole idea of this scheme was to work out what approach to wooing her would be the most efficient, wasn't it? Like repeated trials in Time Chamber experiments. ..

Merlin's pants, he needed to get a life, if that was the best metaphor he could come up with!

No, he decided, this was definitely for the best. Knightley had grown out of his control, anyway, to the point that it didn't matter what succeeded for Knightley and what didn't - because there was no way Scorpius could ever pull the same moves Knightley had.

He gave her a quick hug, and left the dance floor and the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't want to look at her - but when he risked one last look through the window he saw her, still standing near the entrance, shock written all over her face.

Then she strode toward the bar, and Scorpius' curiosity overcame him. She'd been throwing glances over at the bar all night - what (who?) had kept her preoccupied all evening, making him feel like a pawn in a game he didn't quite understand?

There he was. A wizard in silver robes turned at her approach, and they greeted each other like old friends. They spoke for a while, and he wished he could hear what they were saying. As he watched, though, Rose's face became more animated, and suddenly her hand was on the man's chest, her fingers fluttering across the front of his robes. Laughing, he pulled her closer, and whispered something in her ear that made her throw back her head with laughter.

Scorpius' heart clenched tightly in his chest. He moved closer to the window, to get a better look at who she was talking to -

_Finch_?

He stopped in his tracks. Had her newfound seductiveness been for_ his _benefit?


	4. The Blueberry Tart

**Disclaimer: just playing.**

**A/N: Don't worry, readers of the last chapter. Rose knows what she's doing. Or she thinks she does, anyway...**  
><strong>And speaking of readers: thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I feel guilty for not having thanked you all earlier - especially when your reviews make me all warm and fuzzy inside. So thank you, times four chapters :)<strong>

* * *

><p>Bloody hell.<p>

Scorpius surveyed the mess on his bench. White powder glittered over a thin stream of pale silver liquid - a potion which would have taken months, if not years, to brew. A shard of glass pointed viciously upwards from under the melted heap of gold and brass, and he winced.

That was the third Time-Turner he'd broken this week.

That left only six in the trainee budget for the rest of the year! Bletchley was going to kill him. Probably. At least he was working on his stupid project today. His boss could bloody well be grateful that he was actually being productive for once.

Sure, he thought waspishly. If your definition of 'productive' shares a dictionary entry with 'destructive'.

Maybe setting the Time-Turner on fire hadn't been such a good idea.

He'd felt the spell break at the same moment the hourglass had shattered. The silver liquid had hissed sharply, then fallen, immobile, onto his bench - while Time continued its weary path, and Scorpius kicked his booted toe against the wall. So much for that plan.

It was just no bloody use! Three of the damn things destroyed in as many days, and what did he have to show for it? Exactly nothing, except a throbbing toe and an even worse mood, and incontrovertible proof that it was impossible to destroy Time.

He released the Time Containment charms, and stepped out of the warm bubble they'd created. A small, pathetic fizzle came from the silver liquid, and it flopped up half-heartedly before returning to merge, once more, with the white powder.

Better get this cleaned up.

Where were his dragon-hide gloves? Monday's burn still hadn't left his finger - and being more familiar with magical maladies than he liked, he had a feeling it would disappear in its own time, completely uncaring of his own preferred schedule. Injuries incurred in the Time Chamber healed themselves. Eventually. But until then...

He spotted them. On Finch's bench.

His chest tightened immediately, and the familiar swooping sensation low in his stomach made him groan. The feeling didn't pierce him like it had on Friday night, but in many ways he hated this dull, cold ache even more. He'd tried to put it out of his mind by focusing on work, but everywhere he looked there was Finch's pencilcase, Finch's notes, Finch's damn messy desk that he'd have time to clean if he didn't spend his time flirting with his best mate's girlf -

Dammit.

He hadn't seen Finch since That Night. He hadn't been in the office, at least not when Scorpius had been here, and the one time he'd asked if he could come over, Scorpius had pleaded exhaustion and owled back a one-line rejection. Did the bastard seriously think he could waltz into the Leaky Cauldron, watch his awkward attempts at chatting up Rose, and laugh it off with her ten seconds after he left the building - and still be welcome at his flat?

He knew exactly what his mother would say. You have no idea what happened between them, Scorpius, and it's unbecoming to jump to conclusions without giving him a chance to defend himself.

His father would tell him to hex his balls off.

No, he decided, the great Draco Malfoy wouldn't stoop to something so vulgar. There were more subtle ways to take revenge on an enemy, ways that didn't drag the Malfoy family name even further through the mud. He'd probably start a smear campaign against Finch - though when they tried to trace it back to the source, the trail would stop at a pretty blonde secretary in Payroll who'd suddenly and mysteriously remember Finch's attempt to bribe her for valuable Ministry information last month...

Damn, this fantasy was getting way too detailed. Even his father probably wouldn't lower himself to that level. Not with Astoria there to check him, anyway.

Dragon-hide gloves retrieved, Scorpius started scrubbing the desk - probably with more energy than was strictly required. Just because Finch had a pile of papers an inch thick covering his desk didn't mean his own couldn't be spotless. He certainly wasn't going to give him yet another reason to gloat. Finch had the career, the girls, the money - well, to be fair, Scorpius had plenty of that last one, but since most of it was sitting uselessly in a bank vault since he couldn't think of anything to spend it on, what was the point of having it? Maybe he'd donate it all to charity. Some wizened old lady with seven cats could have it. Probably put it to better use than he would.

He wouldn't do it, of course. Because he needed it for his retirement. And to provide for a wife and kids, if he ever managed to get them, anyway. Every month, his salary was deposited dutifully into his vault - only after his rent was paid and the groceries purchased, of course, and he'd read through that week's issue of Magical Journal of Time and Space, which had to be possibly the most boring hobby since knitting socks for house-elves -

This always happened! He'd be going along just fine, and then something would remind him of Rose or Finch and he'd descend into this stupid moodiness and start feeling sorry for himself because he had too much bloody money.

Scorpius was not a miserable person by nature. He preferred practicality and experiments and _doing things_, and emotions weren't exactly his strong suit, though he seemed to be brimming over with them at the moment. The way he'd seen it at the beginning, he had two problems. One, he had a crush on Rose Weasley. And two, he had no idea how to tell her. Obviously a practice run - or five - was the solution to both.

Feeling somewhat calmer, Scorpius considered his next move. He surveyed his desk. It was clearer than Finch's.

That was that battle won.

The end-of-day bells had chimed about half an hour earlier. Scorpius decided that was probably a natural point to stop, and after a few minutes to collect his bags and sign out, he was ready to go.

And as he left the Ministry, he was struck by a sudden urge to do something he hadn't done voluntarily in months: visit his mother for tea.

* * *

><p>"How much do you want?"<p>

"I come to visit my darling mother and this is the greeting I get?"

"You haven't stepped foot in this house without being dragged in by your ears in the last six months," Astoria said drily. "Forgive me if I'm suspicious of your motives."

Scorpius made an exaggerated show of stepping over the threshold. "Well, here I am, Mother, with no greater motive than to have a slice of that blueberry tart I smell baking in the kitchen - and to have a nice mother-son catch-up in your sitting room."

"Ah." Astoria tapped two long, manicured fingernails together. "Woman troubles."

Scorpius had always wondered how mothers got to be so perceptive.

His own was currently ushering him out of the entry hall of the Malfoys' London town house. Taking off his coat, he followed her to the kitchen, where a blueberry tart was indeed sitting on the counter.

She waved her wand, and the dishes in the sink began to scrub themselves. Astoria's baking was one of the many reasons Scorpius preferred their smaller London house to Malfoy Manor - he greatly enjoyed watching his mother play at being a housewife. Without the Muggle inconveniences like broken fingernails that came with having to clean up after yourself.

"So how have you been?" Scorpius asked. "I love the apron, by the way."

Astoria Malfoy did not blush. Though anyone would have been excused, after being caught in that rainbows-and-unicorns contraption. Instead, she regally cut him a slice of tart and directed him to her sitting room. She followed a moment later - sans apron.

"I've been languishing away since October, dear son, as you'd know if you ever bothered to Floo. It's Rose, isn't it?"

Scorpius sighed. "It's always Rose."

She tapped her finger against the wall. "Last time I saw you you said you had a plan. What happened?"

"Finch happened."

"Ruined the plan or stole the girl?"

"Why do you always have to jump straight into the hard conversations?" Scorpius complained, rubbing his head. "This is a sitting room. It's not designed for anything more mentally straining than comparing notes on dress robes. Haven't you ever heard of small talk?"

She shrugged. "When it comes to finding you a wife, no."

"You want me to marry Rose?" Scorpius asked, suddenly interested. He'd never dreamed of thinking that far ahead before - to propose to a girl she generally had to think of you as something more than just a butterbeer buddy... "Mother, I'm barely twenty-one."

"I was engaged to your father when I was twenty-one. Don't listen to all this modern nonsense about waiting until your thirties, like the Muggles do. It's awfully vulgar."

Scorpius shook his head firmly. "I'm afraid I'm not here to give you the happy news. I came here for a bit of Slytherin advice, actually."

He could have sworn he saw her ears sharpen. "Slytherins do have... unique... methods of finding a mate. I take it your Ravenclaw daydreaming was completely useless, as usual?"

"Don't discriminate against other houses, it's unbecoming."

"Stop stalling."

"I've been pretending to be a dragon-tamer called Roland Knightley for the last week."

Astoria's teacup shattered down onto her saucer. "Good gracious, a dragon-tamer? Are you quite alright in the head?"

"Slytherin advice, not sarcasm, thank you, Mother."

She reached for a piece of blueberry tart.

"It was a whim, but it makes perfect sense when you think about it. I've been brewing Polyjuice Potion for a few weeks now, and using it to trial certain dating strategies with Rose."

"Certain dating strategies...?"

"Turns out telling her 'I just got lost in your eyes' is not an effective one."

"Scorpius! Didn't I teach you anything?"

He rolled his eyes - while she wasn't watching, of course. "Knightley was actually getting somewhere, though. He met Rose at one of the Ministry cafes, and she even agreed to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron the next night. And they really -"

Astoria put down her fork. "Wait a minute, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. He? Him? They? Is Roland Knightland you or someone else?"

"Didn't I tell you ten seconds ago about the Polyjuice? And it's Knightley."

"I don't particularly care about Knightley right now. What did you say the purpose of this experiment was?"

"To determine the optimum approach to approaching Rose Weasley with a view to engaging in a physical and romantic relationship," Scorpius answered promptly, then felt his cheeks heat up. "Not that that was suspiciously specific, or anything."

"What a deliciously Ravenclaw answer. Now what was the purpose of creating Knightley? I assume he's an original creation?"

"To try out someone more confident? With a bit more style? Because I was jea- " He stopped. "Because Rose deserves someone on that level?"

Astoria straightened immediately. "Gracious, Scorpius, she hasn't gone and fallen in love with Knightley, has she?"

He smiled wryly. "I wish that were my problem."

"No, my idiot son, you're very grateful that it's not, because that would mean pretending to be stylish and confident for the rest of her life if she decides that's what she wants. I hope you have a steady supply of Boomslang skin..."

"Mother! I'm not planning to live forever as Roland Knightley. It's probably illegal, anyway."

She muttered something he couldn't hear from across the table. Something that probably went along the lines of 'there are ways around the law' and ended with 'you can ask your dear grandfather about that'.

"And regardless of its legal status, I have no intention of abandoning my comfortable and intellectually stimulating Ministry job to muck out dragon stalls in Wales."

Another one of those sharply perceptive looks. "Don't tell me your job's in trouble, too?"

Merlin's beard, how did she always know what was bothering him? Scorpius immediately resolved to start taking Occlumency lessons. You could never quite trust anyone in this household.

He decided to make a start on his neglected piece of tart. It wasn't bad. Better than her first efforts at baking had been - though that wasn't hard, considering there'd been a line of green faces outside each of their two bathrooms on the night of that particular dinner party. Scorpius privately suspected some magical manipulation had come into play this time - not that Astoria would ever admit that, of course.

Whatever. The tart was delicious.

"My job's fine, Mother. It's not why I wanted to talk to you today."

"Then why don't you get to the point about Rose, and I can start actually helping you with your problems?"

Scorpius resisted the urge to snort. Astoria might not be as interested in bending the law as his father, but in her own way she was even less subtle than Draco. Her solution would probably involve locking Rose and Scorpius in a room together for three hours - only after telling Rose, in great detail, that Scorpius had been madly in love with her for eight years.

But he had to admit, she did get results.

"She's in some sort of relationship with Finch."

"Define 'some sort of relationship'."

"I saw them together. Less than a minute after I left the pub she was tangled up in his arms and they were laughing together. I hardly think I could be mistaken about what I saw."

Astoria's arm reached out instinctively. "Oh, Scorpius..."

"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked bitterly. "He's my best friend. Or he was, anyway. You'd think he'd have had the bloo- the decency to have informed me that he's flirting with the girl I've been in love with since fifth year!"

His mother looked faintly alarmed. "Honestly, Scorpius, this is a respectable sitting room, not a brothel. Keep your voice down."

He could feel that stupid, useless moodiness coming on, and tried desperately to suppress it. "It's just -" He tried again. "It's just that - I'm Finch's best friend. If she starts seeing him, she's basically never going to be interested in seeing me. No matter what happens between me and Finch."

"You're absolutely right."

He stared at her. "Well, that's depressing."

"Be quiet and listen to your mother. You're absolutely right that if she's seeing Finch, she's never going to be interested in you. It's nothing against you - although if it's seriously been eight years and you haven't done anything, I wouldn't be surprised if she thinks you're an absolute coward, but -"

"Mother!"

"- I'm afraid it's just a rule. Best friends are in a special zone. After the couple breaks it off, it is social disaster to start going out with your boyfriend's best friend. Can you imagine the awkwardness?"

Now she was just bloody rubbing it in! "Are you quite finished?"

"The solution is quite simple. Don't let them get together in the first place."

"Don't you understand? They already are!"

She waved her hand. "Don't be ridiculous. A few flirtatious hugs does not a relationship make. Tell me exactly what you saw."

He scowled. He'd only just managed to get the image to stop popping into his head every time he saw one of Finch's quills, and now she wanted him to voluntarily remember every detail? "They talked for a bit. Then she touched his chest and hugged him, and they were whispering and laughing together."

Astoria laughed out loud.

"It isn't funny!"

"That's the reason for all this depression? She hugged him and laughed with him? Oh, the scandal!"

"What was I supposed to think?"

"That she was greeting an old friend?"

There was no point explaining any further. It was more than that, he knew - the looks in his direction all night, the slowly seductive way she'd pressed herself against him and trailed her fingers down his chest, how close they'd been standing in the dark. He knew he wasn't misinterpreting things.

But maybe - just maybe - he was exaggerating their importance. He'd never known Rose and Finch to be interested in each other. Maybe it was just a one-off thing, maybe it was just the atmosphere and the music and the Slippery Pumpkins or whatever the hell Rose had been drinking that night. It didn't have to mean anything. It probably hadn't even gone much further than that, because neither Rose nor Finch - sober or not - were the type to have one-night stands.

Scorpius allowed himself to hope.

"So," he began carefully, "if we act under the assumption that Rose and Finch are not - yet - together... what is our current plan of action?"

Astoria eyed him intently, and Scorpius got the distinct impression he was being weighed up. "That depends on you, Scorpius."

"What do you mean?"

"What would happen if, as soon as you left this house, you went to Rose's flat and told her how you felt?"

Scorpius stared at her, his heart beating quickly. What would happen? In his mind's eye he saw Rose again, sprawled across his couch, fingertips grazing his shoulder. What if he'd said something then, what if she hadn't started going on about Knightley...

Bloody useless prick of a man. He hadn't even been able to get the girl.

"I couldn't do it," he blurted. Last week he could have. Last week he'd been on the brink of saying something - and he'd been almost certain Rose would have given him the answer he wanted. But now there was Finch, and there was no way he could compete with someone like that. No matter what his mother's opinion on the matter. He'd go to her house - and just freeze up.

"Then it's back to the drawing board. You did say you were using Polyjuice Potion, didn't you? We'll make a Slytherin out of you yet."

"I'm using it for the best of reasons, don't give me that look."

"Well, since you won't be a man and ask her out yourself, you need to take control of the situation. Get one of your original creations to take her back and start seeing her on the side. As a holding measure, if you will."

"Knightley?"

"Goodness, no, Scorpius, I thought I'd taught you better than that. You're quite right when you said a Ministry job is better than mucking out dragon stalls. Though I do wish you'd get a job in one of the real Departments - it's hard to compete with your friends when you can't even boast about what your own son is doing for a living."

"I'll let you know when I'm ready for a career change, thank you. As it is I'm quite happy with my job, and the only reason I'm here is because I need advice about my love life from a woman who isn't, you know, the object of my desires."

"No, you're not. You're here because I'm a Slytherin and a Malfoy and you're all out of cunning plans."

"Why don't you continue with yours?"

"Making Knightley confident and successful was nonsensical," she said bluntly. "You need someone exactly like you - except with one fatal flaw. One chosen very specifically. The idea, Scorpius, is that Rose should really quite like this man - but she'll always be thinking in the back of her mind something like 'wouldn't it be nice if he had more money?'"

"Rose isn't interested in money, don't be ridiculous."

Astoria raised an eyebrow. "Sweetie, every girl is interested in money. But it doesn't matter what the particular example is. As long as you have whatever he's missing in spades."

* * *

><p>The entry hall of the Ministry of Magic was almost empty. No-one was leaving early - at a quarter to five, most witches and wizards figured they might as well stay fifteen minutes and finish the full day - and it was far too late for anyone to be arriving or dropping off deliveries. In less than twenty minutes, though, it would be crowded again.<p>

And crowded meant witnesses.

Scorpius knew he had to act fast. He'd already had to wait two weeks for his second batch of Potion to finish brewing - if he missed this chance today, he'd have to wait until after the weekend to try again. He ducked into the closest men's bathroom.

Finch had been back in the office this week, acting like absolutely nothing was wrong. Bastard, Scorpius thought, but there wasn't any venom to the thought. He'd seemed suitably casual whenever Rose had come up in conversation, and Scorpius had gathered enough to work out that they weren't yet in a proper relationship...

...Which was a relief, but there still seemed to be signs that their friendship was developing faster than he'd like. They'd never really been friends in their own right before - Finch had been Scorpius' friend, and Rose had been Scorpius' friend, and they'd seemed to enjoy each other's company. But over the last couple of weeks, they'd been talking together, without him, and every conversation made him more and more anxious.

Like on Tuesday. Rose had come to meet him at the elevator after work, like she sometimes did, and he'd relished the chance to talk to her alone for a while - until she'd suggested, with studied casualness, that they wait for Finch and go have a coffee together in Diagon Alley.

Dammit.

_"He can't be that far behind you. Come on, Scorp, I haven't seen Finch in - ages," she'd said, and he'd noticed the way she deliberately hadn't put a timeframe on their last meeting._

_Slumping against a wall, Scorpius had nodded. "Fine. But if he's not here in five minutes we're leaving. I'm absolutely starving."_

Closing the door of the stall behind him, he took a deep breath. This was it. The pick-up line guys had been a warm-up. Knightley had been a trial run, a way of seeing if he could handle developing a character. But Edgar Spore, the man he was about to become, had to be the long-distance marathon. Scorpius was already nervous about being discovered - he had a feeling Edgar would have to be the last one, because a whole stream of guys chatting her up in the space of a month where none had before was bound to make Rose suspicious. It was only the two-week break that gave Scorpius any relief whatsoever.

He'd used the two weeks productively, of course. He'd realised his mistake with Knightley - rashly choosing characteristics at random, hoping at least one of them would appeal to Rose. This time, he focused on his ultimate goal: getting Rose for himself, when (if?) he finally worked up the courage to ask her out.

Edgar's flaw, he'd decided, would be lack of ambition. He'd debated that one for a while - given his current precarious job situation, did he really qualify as having it in spades? - but he'd ultimately decided that it was good enough for his purposes. He did, after all, have a job, and he worked hard on everything except his trainee project.

Besides, Rose didn't care about the ladder-climbing sort of ambition. Rose was climbing her own ladder fast enough that she didn't need a rich man to support her - but she would want someone who really cared about his job, worked hard, and wanted to improve himself. She'd been a Ravenclaw, too, after all - and improvement of the mind counted for ten times as much as improvement of the salary package.

He'd even made notes on Edgar's character. Knightley had been easy - be confident, be flirtatious, and add a beaming smile onto the end of every sentence. Edgar, Scorpius liked to think, was a much more nuanced character. He'd filled two feet of parchment on his background, parentage, education and motivations - until Bletchley had come into the Chamber and berated him for not doing any work, and Scorpius had shoved the parchment under some other notes on his desk. He hadn't seen the paper since...

Scorpius took off his shirt and slacks, with a quick glance at his pocket-watch. Ten minutes to go. Edgar - well, his Muggle counterpart, anyway - was a brawny fellow, and Scorpius had the distinct feeling his upper arms and other parts would end up fatally constricted if he left his clothes on. Suddenly shy, he put on his more spacious robes to cover himself. It just wasn't right standing practically naked in a public bathroom, even if he was in his own stall!

Finally ready, he took a swig from his vial.

He felt the familiar swelling and moulding, and resisted the urge to gag. This was the sixth time he'd done this, after all - he should be used to it by now. Transformation complete, he put on Edgar's shabbier robes, and shoved his own clothes into his shapeless, patched-up bag. It was time.

He stepped out of the bathroom, and the first thing he saw was Tuesday's elevator. Unlike now, the entry hall had been filled with people leaving and talking and bumping into each other. Finch had arrived, dammit, and the three of them had pushed their way through the crowd of witches and wizards and made their way to Diagon Alley. Coffee had been short, but otherwise fine - Finch had had an event at his grandparents' place to go to, and Scorpius had never been more grateful to the Finch-Fletchleys as he had in that moment.

_"I guess we all might as well leave, then," Scorpius had said. Normally he would have invited Rose over for drinks, but tonight he didn't. He really did have a lot of work to do, now that he was focusing properly on his project, and all the time he spent daydreaming about Edgar Spore and how much of a dragon Astoria would be as a mother-in-law was taking time away from essential research time._

_But when he'd looked over at Rose, he fancied a hurt look in her eyes at the lack of invitation. His spirits lifted slightly, but she turned to Finch before he could say anything._

_"Wait, Rose," he'd said, and they'd shared a look Scorpius couldn't interpret. Rose's eyes sharpened, and Finch pressed something into her hands. "See you around, okay?"_

_They were giving each other gifts? In front of him? He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but before he could say anything Finch had Disapparated, with a quick wave to Scorpius._

_It was just him and Rose, now. She looked over at him, her eyes softening, and Scorpius couldn't help but smile back at her. "Me and Finch -" she began, "- we... we're -"_

_His breath hitched in his throat. "Yes?"_

_Her eyes twinkled. "I'll tell you later." Hugging him quickly, she Disapparated._

Scorpius - well, Edgar, now - allowed himself a small smile of his own at the memory of that hug. It almost made up for the present - and the mysterious comment about Finch. He made his way out of the Ministry building. Just in time, it seemed, because behind him he could hear elevators clanking into position and green fires springing to life. He had to remind himself to be subtle - he didn't have to make his big move right now, after all.

Time to bump into a Weasley.


	5. The Spring Constant

**Disclaimer: JK releases her books on time, unlike me**

**A/N: I'm sorry I'm sorry! I had a huge couple of weeks at uni, followed by an interstate trip, so I gave myself an extra week which turned into two and now I'm finally putting this up. I'm sorry for breaking my one-week promise! I'm on break now so I'll try to get ahead again, but after midsemester I have some big stuff due so I might change to updating every two weeks or so, just to take the pressure off a bit. The next chapter will be quicker, though, because I think this one is still a little confusing :)**

* * *

><p>Scorpius - Edgar - blinked in the sudden burst of sunlight. Magical Maintenance having decided on a gloomy thunderstorm inside, even the five o'clock sun was almost too harsh.<p>

Shielding his eyes, he leaned against the graffitied wall behind him. The area around the old Visitor's Entrance had cleaned up its act in recent years, but some things still remained. Right now, Scorpius didn't mind. The dirty concrete matched his awful robes...

No-one came out for a while, which wasn't surprising, really. Most Ministry workers left by Floo. A few left by the newer street entrance, though - mostly the younger ones, since old habits were hard to break. Scorpius idly kicked a stone into the gutter. It wasn't like Muggles could see them walking out through the wall. Besides, they were happy enough to barge through to the Hogwarts platform in the middle of King's Cross - why not here in this abandoned street?

A young couple emerged suddenly, and Scorpius jumped. It wasn't Rose. Neither was the next man, or the tall girl immediately after him. The two stopped to continue a conversation, the girl giving him an odd look - no-one waited to meet anyone outside the Ministry - so he knelt down and pretended to fiddle with his shoe.

He was just starting to suspect that he looked even more awkward here on the floor, when -

"Oh! Excuse me!"

Rose! Perfect. Wow, that had been easier than he'd thought. He hadn't even had to bump into her - she'd done all the work for him!

He stood up quickly, brushing out his robes. "No, no, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been kneeling so close to the entrance. Really, it's no trouble."

She eyed him doubtfully. "But your robes..."

"Were torn when I put them on this morning, so don't worry about it."

She reached out a hand, and he shook it awkwardly, realising halfway through that she'd probably meant to check that he was okay. But now that he'd started shaking, he could hardly stop, could he? Feeling like an idiot already, he kept shaking. He couldn't for the life of him remember what to do next.

But then Rose released his hand, and knelt down in front of him.

Must. Not. Imagine. Same. Position. In. Bedroom.

Seconds later she was standing again - much too soon - and she handed him a small object. He looked at it. A spring? "I think you dropped this," she said carefully, with a small smile. "I'm sorry again for bumping into you."

She walked away, her handbag swinging as she walked.

* * *

><p>"Get your kit on and hide your dirty magazines. You've got five seconds before I get there for real."<p>

What?

Scorpius opened his eyes blearily. Had he fallen asleep on the couch? He must have, because he didn't have a sleepwalking habit, and light was pouring in from his living room window.

And that voice from the fireplace had sounded distinctly like Rose.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up. He'd fallen asleep in his work robes, and he'd never owned a dirty magazine in his life, so Rose had absolutely nothing to worry about. "Honestly, Rose," he muttered to himself, reaching for last night's glass of water. "You wound me."

Rose emerged from the fireplace, hands behind her back. "Sorry. Standard protocol."

"Visit to Fred gone wrong?"

"No. Roxanne's latest boyfriend. Little nudist. I don't know what's wrong with Uncle George's branch of the family."

Scorpius rubbed his eyes again. "Why do you think I would want to hear about your cousin's sexual exploits at... what time is it, anyway?"

"Seven."

"a.m.? Merlin, Rose."

"Don't you just love the early mornings? The birds, the flowers, the sunshine peaking into our lives, gently prodding us awake -"

"_Ow_! Get away from me with that thing!"

Rose giggled, and despite his exhaustion Scorpius couldn't help smiling back. "You're incorrigible," he told her sternly. "Hey, look, an eagle!"

Rose, though she'd inherited her mother's excellent study habits and passion for house-elf rights, also had a father who wasn't particularly known for being the sharpest tool in the shed. A second later, Scorpius was nibbling on the offending sugar quill, an angelic smile waiting on his face.

"Jerk. But I deserved that."

"Yeah. For sheer idiocy. We're in the middle of London, and you thought I saw an eagle? We're about as far away from nature as it's possible to get."

At this, Rose raised a finger. "Ah," she said knowingly, waggling her eyebrows. "That is the reason I'm here in your living room at six o'clock on a Saturday morning."

Damn. So it wasn't a booty call.

He lay back with an exaggerated sigh. "Please, explain. Then let me get back to bed."

"You weren't in bed," she pointed out.

"Unfailing logic," he replied drily. "You must be a top employee at the Ministry."

"Bugger the Ministry! We're escaping the Ministry. Getting out of London entirely. Reconnecting with nature - and each other. We're going -" she drew a deep breath - "on a picnic!"

"Are you sure it's just Floo powder you've been inhaling?"

But Scorpius had to admit he was interested. Very interested. Something that probably wasn't quite conveyed to Rose by the large yawn he let out immediately after finishing his sentence.

Her face fell. "Come on, Scorp. It's been ages since we've talked. You've been busy with work, and I've been busy with work, and every time I think we've finally got a chance to sit down and just have a good old chat someone else interrupts us."

Someone else? Scorpius sat up a little straighter. Did she mean Finch? Forgetting his tiredness, he grinned. "I'd be absolutely delighted to go on a picnic with you, Rose Weasley."

She grinned back. "Up you get, then," she said brightly, grabbing hold of his hand and yanking him up. Or trying to, anyway. Even half-asleep, he wasn't so much of a lightweight that Rose could pull him around.

Physically, at least!

"We're going right now?" he complained. "Don't I even have time to have breakfast?"

"It's a picnic, Scorp. You eat food on a picnic."

"But I'm starving!"

"Finish up that sugar quill then. Before I steal it back."

"Do I at least get to change?"

She eyed him appraisingly. "Get some sturdier shoes, at least. I highly doubt those flimsy things will last a second where we're going."

"Which is...?"

"You'll find out when we get there, won't you?" she laughed.

He got up with a sigh, and made his way to his bedroom. "I don't know why we have to go so early. I'm quite sure it'll still be there in four hours."

"If you don't move your arse we won't be there for four hours, so hurry up or I'll go by myself!"

Scorpius laughed, closing the door behind him. "And miss my oh-so-witty company? I don't think so!"

The latch slipped into place, and Scorpius ripped open his closet. He had to be quick - wouldn't want Rose thinking he was worried about what to wear, would he? - but at the same time he wanted to look just a little bit nice.

His mother's words floated into his head. "It doesn't matter what the quality is. As long as you have what he's missing in spades."

Merlin, if there was one thing Edgar Spore was missing, it was style!

But Scorpius didn't have anything particularly stylish in his closet, either. Unless you counted his dinner suit, and getting mud all over his trousers trekking through the hills didn't sound like such a great idea. Especially not right before the Malfoy dinner party.

"Muggle gear or robes?" he called out to Rose.

"Jeans, definitely. Didn't you think to check what I was wearing?"

"My eyes were half-closed with sleep, thank you very much!"

He heard her laugh through the door. "You're welcome."

Ahh, what the hell. He pulled on some jeans and a plain t-shirt. It wasn't like this was a date, or anything. There was no reason he should care about what he was wearing.

Still, when he opened the door, he couldn't help but compare his outfit with Rose's. Hers was simple, too, as was probably appropriate for a picnic in the woods, but where his shirt was plain grey, hers was pink and printed, a unicorn badge pinned to the front completing the look. The pink clashed awfully with her hair, and it would probably be a lot easier to read the slogan on her shirt if the writing was actually legible, but the look was so adorable, so Rose, that he felt his heart skip a beat. How did she manage to pick the right clothes so effortlessly?

"It's the brooch, isn't it?" Rose asked drily, noticing his stare.

We, at least she didn't think he was staring at her chest.

"Feeling a bit whimsical today, are you?"

She laughed. "Just in a good mood, that's all."

"Much too good a mood for seven o'clock in the morning," Scorpius grumbled as they stepped outside his flat. "Merlin, Rose, it's not even light yet!"

"So I lied. Maybe it's closer to five. I've never been good with numbers and things."

"Says the girl who topped Arithmancy every year she took it!"

He looked around. The streets were virtually empty. In the distance he could hear a few cars and buses as Muggle Londoners started their day, but this particular neighbourhood was quiet. Sensible people. Where did anyone have to go so urgently at 5am on a Saturday?

"Apparating?" he asked, and she nodded, shivering a little now that they were outside. "Hang on, I'll get you a jumper, you look freezing."

"Honestly, Scorp, it's no problem -" she tried to tell him, but when he returned a minute later she accepted it gratefully.

"I got dressed in front of the fire, as you might be able to guess," she admitted. "Are you ready? We'll do side-along, since you don't know where we're going."

Scorpius shuddered.

"Don't give me that look," Rose told him, grabbing his hand. "Hold tight!"

Before he could gather himself, they were spinning through the air. But... something was going wrong. The further they travelled, the more he felt constricted, unable to breathe. He felt the familiar squeezing sensation tighten around him -

Wait, familiar? He'd never done side-along Apparition in his life before. In fact, it felt a lot like taking Polyjuice Potion...

Merlin! He wasn't transforming, was he? He could not let Rose see him as Spore - or worse, Knightley!

He felt Rose's hand clench his - the squeezing continued - he had to break free, had to let go before the transformation was complete -

And then they landed, tumbling to the ground in a flurry of arms and legs and bodies.

"You git!" Rose yelled. "You git, you absolute git! What the hell did you think you were doing? Don't you know how dangerous Apparition is if you stuff it up?"

Scorpius gaped at her. What was she going on aout?

And then he realised where they were. They were lying in a meadow, a row of trees three feet away from them - and Rose was lying on top of him, her legs tangled in his and her breath coming in gasps in a way that instantly made him think of -

He pushed her off hurriedly. If she stayed where she was a few seconds longer she'd be able to feel for herself exactly what he thought of her!

"Merlin, Rose, I'm sorry."

She sat up, her chest still heaving, and Scorpius had to remind himself very sternly not to stare. "What the hell were you thinking?"

_That I was about to turn into a homeless bloke called Edgar?_ Man, he was an idiot. How had he thought Polyjuice Potion could transform him when he hadn't been within six feet of the stuff in the last twelve hours? "I - I don't know," he said awkwardly. "There was just... this squeezing... I couldn't breathe..."

She stared at him. And then she laughed. "You've never done side-along Apparition before? Not even as a kid?"

"We always travelled by Portkey," he said stiffly. He was right. She thought he was a total idiot. "Mother never got her Apparition licence."

"Really?" That got her attention. "How did she get anywhere? Wouldn't that mean always having to rely on someone else for side-along?"

"Every country manor house has at least one fireplace," Scorpius said drily. "And I highly doubt Mother has ever visited any other sort of property."

"What about errands?"

"She has a highly trained and obedient son for those."

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Rose said earnestly. She laid back beside him, and Scorpius was grateful. While the position was surprisingly intimate, it also removed the distracting sight of that tight top of hers...

"I'm sorry for stuffing up your Apparition," he replied seriously.

She rolled over to face him. "Just don't do it again, okay? You gave me one hell of a fright."

"Agreed, on the condition you give me more than five seconds notice next time."

"Agreed."

They smiled at each other, and sleepiness slowly started to replace the adrenaline running through Scorpius' veins.

"So this is where we were meant to end up?" he murmured drowsily.

"Close enough," Rose replied, and Scorpius was amused to notice her earlier enthusiasm had been replaced with the same exhaustion he felt.

But he was too much of a gentleman to comment.

"We were meant to arrive inside that forest there," Rose continued. "But I decided at the last minute to land somewhere with open spaces, for some _mysterious_ reason. But here's just as good a place to start as any."

"Please say the first activity is a nap."

She lazily reached out a hand to stop him rolling over - then shifted it to the horizon instead, where a faint red glow was beginning to appear.

She'd brought him here to watch the sunrise. Suddenly Scorpius was very aware of the sights and sounds of nature around him: the cool, crisp dew soaking through his back, the early morning calls of birds in the forest, of small animals racing through the trees, the gentle rustling and crackling of leaves above and below them. And the glow.

They lay there for what seemed like ages, though it couldn't have taken more than fifteen minutes for the sun to rise fully.

"Do you ever think about time?" Scorpius asked suddenly, into the silence.

Rose didn't reply for a moment, but when she did, her voice was thoughtful. "I think about you when I think about time," she said honestly. "I think of time as one of those things that's always there, a constant, in the background -"

"Gee, thanks."

"Shut up. Do you want to hear my deep, intellectual thoughts or not?"

He waved his hand lazily. "Go on."

"But constant is the wrong word," she continued. "It's constant in the sense that it is always there, but in the background it's moving at different speeds, compressing and stretching -"

"Like a spring," Scorpius said suddenly.

She looked at him sharply.

"Or a bed," he said hurriedly to cover up the slip - then flushed bright red as he realised what he'd said, and hoped to Merlin the early morning light wasn't bright enough for her to notice.

She laughed anyway. "Please, explain."

"You've always got the bedsheet, right?" he said earnestly, sitting up to face her. "And that's always beneath you -" _in bed_ - dammit, this topic was even more awkward than the spring one would have been! - "but when you wriggle around, it moves underneath you, and the flat sheet becomes a series of bumps and valleys -"

He broke off. There was literally no possible way he could continue this line of conversation. Not when he was so preoccupied with staring at the bumps and valleys of Rose's own body, stretched out over the still-wet grass. She'd rolled over again to face the sky, and there was a wet patch on her side that made her thin t-shirt cling to her chest.

He tried not to stare.

But it was bloody hard, when the outline revealed a very lacy bra underneath. He tugged at his jeans discreetly...

"The wriggle bit is interesting," Rose mused, with a very interesting wriggle of her own. "I guess if you're just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, time is flat and stretches out. But if you've got someone in there with you rumpling up the sheets -" _Merlin, please_ - "time bunches up and ends much faster than you want it to."

She reached up to adjust her bra, and Scorpius groaned aloud.

"You alright?" Rose asked, sounding concerned.

"Uh, yeah," he grunted, his face flaming. "I was, uh, lying on a stone. Sorry."

"But do you agree?" she pressed.

He had to turn this conversation away from the sexual, right now. "Uh, I'm trying not to imagine you rumpling up the sheets with someone," he said tightly, pretending the idea hadn't been a night-time fantasy of his for years. "Too much information, and all that..."

She grinned, sitting up and crossing her legs. "You're a guy, Scorp. Every guy likes thinking about rumpling the sheets with a girl, even you." She paused, then gave him a wink. "I bet you've even thought about me that way."

He gaped at her. "I'm not answering that!"

"Aww, come on, Scorp, I've thought about you like that. Doesn't mean I'm going to do anything about it. Doesn't mean I'm even interested in you. It's just, well, you're a guy, I'm a girl..."

"You're my best friend!" Scorpius replied in a strangled voice. "I'm not allowed to think of you... like _that_!"

She laughed. "As long as it's just thinking... who's going to know?"

"I am! Now let's get back on topic before my entire body turns red!"

"I don't remember what we were talking about."

He scowled at her, but inside his heart was beating rather fast - you know, for six o'clock in the morning. She'd thought of him in a sexual way? Him, Scorpius Malfoy? Not Knightley or Spore or anyone else?

But then she'd ruined it by saying she wasn't interested in him.

"We were talking about time, a very safe and impersonal topic, thank you very much."

She leaned forward, brushing a strand of frizzy hair away from her face. "Is that what you want? A safe and impersonal topic? And there I was thinking this was a catch-up between best friends..."

Friends. Yes.

But just because he didn't want to talk about the two of them together - not yet, anyway - didn't mean he couldn't ask about the rest of her love life. She was practically begging him to share some gossip, right?

Maybe she had something to say about Finch...

"Fine," he sighed, dramatically. "Out with it."

"Out with what?" she asked innocently.

"Whatever it is you're dying to share."

"We haven't talked in weeks! There's tons of stuff I could tell you! What do you want to know?"

He paused, considering how to phrase his question without looking like he was desperate to know the answer. "Hang on," he said carefully. "Remember that conversation, a few weeks ago, after we had coffee with Finch? And you told me you had something to tell me?"

Rose cocked her head. "I don't remember that?"

"It had something to do with Finch." He took a breath. Time to be casual. He could pull off casual, right? It wasn't like he was interested in her answer in the slightest. This was just an extremely casual conversation between two friends who hadn't caught up in a while.

Two friends who had just watched the sunrise together, alone in an otherwise empty meadow.

Two friends who were dancing around the subject of one's love life, while the other pretended he was a completely impartial observer.

Dammit, why was Rose doing this? Why had she turned the conversation to this, to the sexual, to the romantic, to the everything-they-were-not -

"Finch?" Rose prompted.

"Uh, yeah, Finch. After he gave you that..." He drifted off. He didn't know how to finish that sentence. Present? Note?

Rose blushed, the pink on her cheeks clashing with the red-gold flecks in the early morning light. "Some things are between me and Finch."

He suddenly had to have an answer. "Are you - what's going on between you and Finch?" he asked roughly, no longer caring whether she might guess his feelings. "Because you've been - you know..."

"Acting like we're together?" Rose answered bluntly.

"Are you?"

Rose said nothing for a long moment. Suddenly the sounds of the forest weren't peaceful, they were ominous. Because every moment she didn't speak brought them closer to an answer he knew he wouldn't like.

Until finally she spoke. "No."

He waited for the flood of relief, but it didn't come. "What do you mean, no?"

She laughed, but Scorpius could tell she was hiding something. "I knew you purebloods didn't know the meaning of the word."

"Shut up and answer the question."

Rose wasn't the type to prevaricate. Normally. "I won't say there's nothing between us. But we're not together. Not in the way you mean."

"Then what did you want to tell me?" he pressed.

"That time is like a completely asexual spring and we should leave it at that," she said firmly, but the light in her eyes was back. "Serves me right for pushing you, I suppose."

"You're damn right it does," Scorpius grumbled. "You owe me a personal question later."

She threw a patch of grass at him. "Hey, no fair. You didn't answer your personal question either."

"So," he said loudly. "What was this about a picnic?"

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday, the twenty-second day of April, in the year two thousand and twenty-six in the Georgian calendar.<em>

So read the piece of paper clutched in Scorpius' hand. Scorpius' rather brawny and muscular hand, thanks to the marvellous effects of Polyjuice Potion, but that was secondary. The piece of paper was the most important thing.

Scorpius was rather proud of this plan. He'd had to find a day when Rose would be at the Ministry before most people were around - but for a reason that Scorpius Malfoy wouldn't know about. Thanks to her comments to Roland Knightley, though - he wasn't so useless after all! - he'd been able to track down this trial date. A goblin rights trial, with the ominous but rather unhelpful title of 'Redric the Second v. The British Ministry of Magic: on the profound disrespect shown by the defendant to the rights and regulations of British wizarding law' and a trial time of... seven-thirty a.m.

Dammit.

He'd missed the start. He wouldn't be able to run into Rose before she testified. Oh, well, he thought philosophically. It was probably too much of a coincidence to expect her to believe that he just happened to be hanging around the Ministry two hours before anyone else would arrive.

Maybe he could meet her after she got out. How long did these things take, anyway? Would Rose have to stay for the rest of the trial after she testified? Maybe she'd be let out on her lunch break...

But six hours was a long time for him to be hanging around out of the office.

He'd have to go down to Bletchley, at least to give him some excuse, but - he cursed his overenthusiasm - he'd have to wait for the Potion to wear off now. That wasn't too bad, though. He'd probably be back in his own body by nine a.m. Just in time for a heart-to-heart with Bletchley. Yay.

Meanwhile, he might as well go down to the Wizengamot - no, that was stupid, he couldn't risk being seen down there twice. Dammit, he really hadn't thought this through, had he? Security down there wouldn't even let him in there once! Scorpius Malfoy, maybe, but never shabby Edgar Spore.

Miserable again, he made his way back out to the Atrium. Seemed like he had some time to kill. None of the food and drink places would be open at this time, which was a bit of a pity, because now that he thought about it he was starving. Rose really was right about breakfast being the most important meal of the day...

He took a seat on a bench near the fountain. A small gold plaque decorated the back, and Scorpius bent to read it. 

_This bench was placed here in 1999, following the victory of the Second Wizarding War, that those who sit here may contemplate the fountain that lies before them..._

It went on, in smaller print, but Scorpius didn't bother reading it. Rose had ranted to him about it in the past, enough times that he practically had it memorised. After the war, the Ministry had restored it to its original design - no more Muggle-borns supporting their masters on their backs - but Rose still didn't think it was enough. "Like pets," she'd spit, pointing at the goblins and house-elves at the feet of the witch and wizard. "You could put a leash on them and take them for a walk."

Footsteps suddenly filled the silence. He looked up. One of the elevators had arrived, bringing two people up to the Atrium. One of whom was Rose, he realised, unsurprised. Accompanied by someone else, someone official-looking, so he didn't try anything. He'd stick with his plan of bumping into her after the trial.

But then they passed the fountain, and Rose stopped to pay her respects, the other woman continuing impatiently towards the fireplaces. Rose noticed him sitting there, and cocked her head. Scorpius smiled in reply - then fished something out of his pocket. He paused, wondering if she'd associate it with Scorpius or Edgar. Better not risk it.

"You're here early," she said quietly. "You're the bloke who tripped me up the other day, aren't you?"

He smiled ruefully. So she remembered him, even without the spring. "That's why I'm sitting down on an actual chair today."

"Read the plaque?"

"It's... thought-provoking."

"Both versions of the statues are," she agreed.

They were interrupted by Rose's companion, her voice shrill in the quiet morning air. "Rose! We're going to be late!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Marita doesn't understand my fascination with this statue."

"Shouldn't you be going?"

She shrugged. "We're not that late. Besides, she can't fire me for paying my respects, can she?"

"Still..."

"Do you work here?" Rose asked curiously.

"Uh -"

"This is the second time I've bumped into you, that's all, and I don't think I've seen you around before. You new or something?"

Scorpius wished to Merlin his character notes hadn't gone missing. Luckily, he remembered this one - "I want to be new," he admitted. "Still working on the employment side of things, though."

She nodded understandingly. "Good luck, I guess. And - see you around?"

"Maybe we can compare notes on the statue," Scorpius suggested, and they smiled.


	6. The Murky Pages

**Disclaimer: JK is not a Muggle engineering student. I am. And we do spend far too much time thinking about springs.**

* * *

><p>"I've just had an interview with -"<p>

No. Too specific. Besides, he didn't even know who he'd have the interview with. And if he gave a name, Rose would probably suggest 'looking into his case' and realise he was talking absolute rubbish.

Waiting for an interview? No, that suffered from exactly the same problem - she worked in the damn office, she could find out whether they were hiring anyone in seconds.

He did still need an excuse to be waiting here, though. The International Magical Office of Law wasn't a place people popped by for a quick casual visit. Maybe he could say that he wanted to request an interview with someone - which could, if he played his cards right, lead to Rose spending time on his case. And, by extension, with him.

Except that if he seriously applied for a job, as he no doubt would have to do to keep up that facade, the Ministry would investigate him. And realise there was no such person as Edgar Spore...

He'd work it out when she came out. It was still only half-past four, after all - plenty of time for him to think about what to say. Bletchley hadn't been in the office today, so Scorpius had taken the opportunity to get creative with his office hours. In his defence, though, he'd worked through his lunch hour reading research papers, so he figured he deserved an early finish today.

The spring Rose had given him was still in the pocket of his robes. He fished it out, squeezing it experimentally between his fingers. It wasn't a large spring - about an inch long, and rather thin, and he must have sat on it at some point because it was bent slightly near the top. Oops. He tried to bend it back, but it kept jumping back into place.

Muggles were rather intelligent creatures, he thought. They didn't have magic, but they came up with some very interesting ways of getting around that handicap. Muggle science in particular had some very interesting ideas about Time, ideas that Scorpius had a feeling might help him in his project.

If he could just get his head around that 'relativity' thing...

He held the spring up to the light. He wasn't quite sure where they fitted into Muggle science. They seemed like rather common, everyday objects, used for practical purposes rather than understanding deep theoretical concepts. But apparently Muggle students spent quite a lot of time studying them!

The one long conversation he could remember with Rose's grandfather had been about springs. Arthur had been fiddling with the wheels of what was apparently a new type of Muggle car, for a reason he'd explained but Scorpius hadn't quite understood. Springs had featured quite prominently at the time, though. Arthur had been trying to understand a Muggle journal article about the contraption, but even between the two of them they hadn't been able to figure it out. The authors would write two sentences, then fill the rest of the page with some arcane language Arthur had delightfully called 'mathematics'. If they'd been able to work that out...

It probably would have helped with today's articles, too. Scorpius had had to abandon quite a few of them due to complete lack of understanding of the language, let alone the concepts. He'd finally found a few he could understand, but he had a sneaking suspicion from the large diagrams and colourful text that they weren't quite aimed at professional researchers...

Idly, he pushed the spring in and out between his fingers, timing it against the ticking of the clock in the empty foyer. Once or twice someone would come out of an office, but Scorpius had long since mastered the art of looking inconspicuous. No-one blinked an eye at his presence.

Quarter to five. He counted down another minute with his spring. This better damn well be worth it. He'd been waiting here for nearly twenty minutes now, not including the time he'd spent down on level 9 in preparation.

Wait.

Quarter to five?

It was Friday. He cursed under his breath - then cursed himself for not knowing any decent swear words -

How had he forgotten about their Friday coffee meetings? He was waiting up here like an idiot while Rose and Finch had been sitting in Diagon Alley.

Alone.

They hadn't had a Friday date in a while, that was the problem! There'd been that brief meeting a couple weeks ago, but they'd all been so busy with work that their regular meeting had fallen by the wayside. But Rose had made him promise to come this week after their picnic on Saturday, and now he was already fifteen minutes late -

And he was only half an hour into his transform! He'd have to wait another thirty minutes, at least, before he could go down. And they'd have gone to Florean Fortesque's, too, which meant he couldn't even send a memo - Merlin, why had he never invested in an owl?

He jumped up. He had to do something.

Last Saturday had been wonderful. Just him and Rose and the sunrise. And the large hamper of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' mostly confectionary-related goods. Rose had been completely right - they hadn't had a chance to catch up in a long time, which was a completely ridiculous way of romancing a girl, when he thought about it. A whole day on a picnic in the woods, on the other hand...

And she'd said she wasn't involved with Finch! Sort of -

"Not in the way you mean." What was that supposed to mean? On one hand, she'd given him a very direct no. But she'd seemed... evasive. Like there was something she wasn't telling him.

He couldn't believe Rose would start any sort of relationship with Finch without telling him. And even if she had, she would have told him on Saturday.

But maybe she was being evasive because she wasn't in a relationship with him, but she wanted to be.

Just like Astoria had said.

But that didn't matter. As long as nothing was official. Besides, she'd seemed perfectly comfortable to tease him about thinking about her. And that was practically flirting!

Even if she had ruined it by saying she wasn't interested in Scorpius either.

He tugged at his sleeve, knowing it was useless. Last Saturday had indeed been wonderful, but the one thing he was trying not to think about was that there was something between Rose and Finch, no matter what she'd told him, and the more time they spent alone together in secluded ice-cream shops the more that something would grow.

Twenty minutes, if he'd taken the correct dose. He felt his spirits lift - it would take him at least ten minutes to get changed and Floo to the Leaky Cauldron anyway. With one last look around the room, he strode out, heading for the elevator. It was probably less risky to change back on the busy Atrium floor...

* * *

><p>"Hey, Malfoy! Finally! What kept you?"<p>

Rose laughed at Finch's comment as Scorpius approached their table. "You work in a room literally filled to the roof with clocks. How could you of all people be late? And for chocolate sundaes, no less!"

He sat down opposite Rose, scowling at both of them. "Shut up, you lot, I got caught up in something." Yeah, Edgar's oversized robes, in that damn cramped bathroom stall...

Finch shrugged. "We don't mind. Gave us the chance to talk about you, didn't it, Rose?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she blushed.

"Got a date for the dinner party yet?" she teased. "Because both you and Finch are going, and I'm sitting awkwardly on the sidelines waiting for someone to ask me..."

"I asked you a month ago!"

She took a sip of her sundae. It really did look delicious. "That was a month ago, mate, the invitation's probably under about four feet of parchment on my desk. Feel free to ask me again, though."

"Not until I get my hands on one of those sundaes." He signalled to a passing waitress. "Merlin, I've had a busy day."

Finch smirked. "What's it feel like, having to do work like the rest of us?"

"Shut up. I do work."

"Was it actually related to the Department this time?"

"Yes."

"Did it involve any of the three Time-Turners that mysteriously went missing from the trainee cupboard the other day?"

"Oi, how do you know about that?"

Rose laid her hands out over the table, laughing. "Boys! Behave! This is an ice-cream shop, not a Potions brawl."

Scorpius pretended to resist, but his heart wasn't in it. It was nice having Finch back. More to the point, it was nice being able to talk to Finch without suspicion looming over the conversation. He wasn't going to totally relax yet, but things were looking up. And what had Finch said when he'd sat down?

"Gave us the chance to talk about you, didn't it, Rose?"

That little blush of hers had been very interesting...

He sat back, whistling. "So. What's new in the world of Rose and Finch?"

Rose shrugged. "Work. Picnics. Naked cousins. Same old, same old. Finch?"

"Not much - no, wait!" He snapped his fingers. "D'you hear about Bletchley retiring?"

What? That was news to him. "Since when?"

"Since today. He announced it at the conference this morning."

Ahh. The conference. The Third European Conference on Forward Time Travel, an annual gathering of wizards who went to Paris for three days to talk about - well, not much at all, forward time travel considered impossible by almost everyone in the Magical research community. Scorpius winced, a little guiltily. "Forgot about that, actually. I've been wondering why Bletchley hasn't been in the last few days."

"I didn't even know he was going, to be honest," Finch admitted, as Scorpius' sundae arrived.

"Neither did I, and he's my boss!"

"I think," Rose told them sanctimoniously, "that both of you need to start keeping up with current events in your departments if you wish to advance in your professional careers."

"Hey! I -"

"No fair, I -"

"And that is all that will be said on the matter, thank you both very much, since this is a work-discussion-free zone now that we are all adequately supplied with chocolate."

Finch snorted. "He's been adequately supplied with chocolate for five minutes now, and you haven't noticed."

"I may have been too engrossed in my caramel sauce to pay attention to your arguments. Which doesn't mean my point is any less valid."

"What are we supposed to talk about if we're not allowed to mention work?" Scorpius asked. "Because none of us at this table lead particularly interesting lives outside of it..."

"Oi, speak for yourself, mate, I've got plenty of stuff going on!"

Rose and Scorpius looked at him, disbelievingly. "Yeah?" Scorpius asked. "And don't say Paris, because that was -"

"Not Paris!" he protested, putting his hands up. "But -" and here he leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on his face - "the City of Love was not a bad first guess..."

"You've found yourself a girlfriend!" Rose squealed, and once again Scorpius was reminded that his best friend was very definitely a girl.

And judging by that comment...

"Shh," Finch whispered. "Not yet. I'm not saying anything. I haven't got anywhere with her yet. But -" he winked at Rose - "I'll be sure to let you know when I do."

Okay, that wink had been totally unnecessary. But this was very definitely a Good Sign. If Finch was hanging after someone else...

Well. No-one liked having someone like Finch as a rival. This certainly made it a lot easier to be friends with him.

He raised his sundae glass. "To the mystery girl," he said, grinning.

Rose echoed his toast. "And may we actually meet her one day."

"Ahh," Scorpius said knowingly, tapping his glass with his fingers. "Has Finch mentioned this girl before?"

"Maybe once or twice," Finch said, with studied casualness.

Rose laughed. "Or three, or four, or ten."

"Merlin, Finch, how long have you been after her?"

Finch moaned. "Can we make my love-life a no-go zone too?"

"Details. Later." Scorpius stage-whispered to Rose.

"I heard that."

"I know."

Leaning back with a sigh, Scorpius looked around at their now-empty glasses. Why did chocolate always have to disappear so quickly? His hadn't lasted much longer than the others', and they'd had a head start, for goodness' sake!

"Time to leave?" he asked, and they nodded. He wanted to stay longer - ice-cream definitely needed time to settle in one's stomach - but Friday afternoons were a busy time at Florean's and he didn't think the management would take kindly to them sitting around with nothing but three empty sundaes. But the autumn sun was still shining and the wind wasn't too cold -

"Anyone up for a walk?" Rose suggested. "It's still light out."

"You read my mind," Scorpius agreed. "Anything to delay getting back into the books."

"You've really been getting into that lately," Finch said, standing up. "What happened to good old slacker Scorp?"

Scorpius looked guiltily at Rose. He was supposed to look smart and ambitious and hard-working in front of her - not admit he spent half his working hours playing with irrelevant spells! Dammit, Finch.

"I've always been very hard-working, thank you," he said, as the three of them left the cafe. "It's just that..."

"...Your hard work goes into projects that have absolutely nothing to do with the Ministry?"

"Boys! We've had this conversation already!" Finch and Scorpius gave her identical looks, and she laughed. "Stop that. I half expect a "but Mum..." out of one of you. No, the no-work rule still applies."

"Even though technically we've left the chocolate zone?"

"If you don't shut up about projects and the Ministry I'll start going on about goblin riots and the latest Gringotts trial. Have either of you been following it, by any chance?"

Not the trial, perhaps - just one of the major witnesses...

Scorpius didn't answer, not trusting his response. Unlike Knightley, Rose hadn't mentioned Edgar to him once. Which meant he had to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. At least until she saw fit to tell Scorpius about him - which, if all went to plan, would be sooner rather than later.

He grinned, and looked around. Diagon Alley suddenly seemed to sparkle, as the autumn light slowly disappeared over the horizon. Shops were shutting up, but more were opening for the night, with lamps flickering on in nearly every window they passed. The lane was as crowded as ever, but it was Friday night - no more work, no more deadlines, no more bosses and memos and reports. Just twilight, and good company, and the quiet sound of jazz being played somewhere not too far away...

Rose wasn't with Finch. He was almost certain of that. And even if she did want to be - well. Finch seemed to have moved on. As Finch was wont to do.

He'd never appreciated that habit more than he did in that moment.

"You're quiet, Scorp," Rose said suddenly, and he started.

"What?"

"We've been walking for half an hour, mate," Finch laughed. "Didn't you notice? We've ended up in Knockturn Alley. Look, there's Borkin and Burkes. Wonderful place. Lots of history."

Wait, really? He looked at where Finch was pointing - then punched his arm. "Bastard. That's Madam Malkins'. We've walked about twenty feet."

Rose shook her head. "Honestly. And you thought the eagle was bad."

* * *

><p>Scorpius was getting rather sick of the Atrium fountain.<p>

It had never bothered him before - but then again, he'd never really looked at it. Not like he was doing now. No, looking wasn't the right word - staring mindlessly for hours on end was probably more like it.

Okay, hours was a bit of an exaggeration. But if you added up all the time he'd spend here in the last few weeks - the time Edgar had spent, anyway - it came out to a pretty hefty figure.

Edgar was back again today, but this time he wasn't just aimlessly hanging around. This time he was going to make his move.

And it was terrifying him.

Knightley had been low risk. Low investment. A spur-of-the-moment idea. Completely the opposite of Edgar.

But Edgar? Edgar was basically Scorpius himself. Which meant he had to do this properly. This was no longer a matter of heading down to the Muggle subway for another go. If he failed - no, this was the moment of truth, if _today_ failed - that was it. No more Polyjuice. No more disguises. No way of ever gaining the confidence to ask her out as himself.

He could feel his stomach churning as the single clock ticked closer to five. He was making a habit of this - he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been in the Time Chamber for close of day. He'd been coming in earlier to make up for it, of course, but it wasn't the same.

Sitting here was lonely, in a way that even the almost-empty trainee corner was not. It was fanciful, but at least there he belonged. Sitting here alone, waiting for Rose instead of working, was a reminder of just how much he was risking to be here.

This had to work.

Five to five. A few people crossed the Atrium floor, but none so much as glanced in his direction. Edgar Spore had practically become part of the furniture, he thought wryly.

The minutes ticked on. Five, then five past, with a rush of people that left Scorpius unable to see the clock for a while.

Quarter past.

At half past he decided he could risk a trip to the bathroom. Not because he was worried about the Potion. He'd known perfectly well this was going to last longer than an hour - he just wasn't sure about his bladder.

He tried to stand up - and realised with a grunt of annoyance that he had pins and needles in his left foot. Dammit, nature. How could such an innocent-seeming phenomenon make it virtually impossible to walk?

Or maybe it was just Spore. For a body that looked so fit, it sure wasn't taking kindly to the cooler weather these days. As he walked, his right shin cramped, and he winced. Everything felt stiff.

Which possibly had something to do with sitting in the same spot for nearly forty-five minutes. That didn't stop him from taking the opportunity to do a bit of experimental stretching in front of the bathroom mirror.

(Stretching. Not flexing. Stretching.)

And then he walked out again, and he was back in the same old Atrium. Merlin, he wasn't just sick of the fountain, he was sick of the whole damn place. It was meant to be awe-inspiring - for the ten seconds you were supposed to spend there. He somehow didn't think the designers had meant for anyone to sit here for more than an hour...

He didn't feel like sitting down again, so he wandered around for a bit. Pretty much everyone had gone home, so there was point trying to look inconspicuous. He even walked up to the fountain for a closer look, which was almost interesting, much to his own disgust -

And suddenly - finally! - he saw her. An elevator rattled open, the sound harsh compared to the previous utter silence. Her hair was up, in the ponytail she wore to work - the one that was neat at the start of the day, but after ten hours of work looked a little worse for wear.

Personally, he preferred it this way.

She looked - not tired, but like all she wanted to do was curl up in front of the fireplace with a good book and a Chocolate Frog or two. He hesitated, not sure whether he should approach her.

_Dammit, Scorpius, you've been waiting for more than an hour. You are not letting her get away. _

She hadn't noticed him - unsurprising, considering he was lurking behind the fountain. She looked to be headed for the fireplaces - and she was getting close to them - why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he running after her?

"Rose!"

The shout destroyed the tentative silence that had fallen since the elevator. Scorpius jumped. Oh - wait - that had been him...

Rose turned around, looking for the source of the shout. "Hello?"

_Move it, Scorp, _he told himself firmly. No freezing up now.

Slowly he edged around the side of the fountain.

"I don't bite," Rose said drily, her voice echoing in the almost empty chamber.

He laughed, breaking the tension. In himself, anyway. He walked quickly over to the fireplaces.

"How do you know my name, anyway?" she asked curiously. "I don't think we've ever been properly introduced..."

"What's stopping us from introducing ourselves right now?"

She laughed. "I'm Rose."

"Rose Weasley," he said immediately - then flushed bright red. "I'm sorry. I bet I sound like a stalker now."

Shrugging, she gave him a smile - and some Floo powder. "No need to apologise. I'm used to people knowing who I am. But I don't believe I've heard about you before...?"

That might have something to do with him being a probably homeless Muggle. "Edgar Spore," he told her, offering his hand out. "Unemployed. As you found out the other day."

"Hey, everyone's got to be unemployed some time, right? And besides," she said, a teasing glint in her eye, "the amount of time you spend here must mean you're bound to get a job at some point..."

"I've wanted to talk to you ever since I tripped you up on the road," he admitted, suddenly wanting to get everything off his chest. "I'm - I'm not very smooth, I'll admit that. I - it's just that I've been seeing you around so much, and then there are all those chance encounters we keep having, and - well."

"Well?"

"I wouldn't mind getting to know you better," he said in a rush.

He felt like a third-year. Especially when she didn't respond.

"I mean - not - just - you seem like an interesting person, that's all, and I'm - really making a hash of this, aren't I?"

And finally Rose took pity on him. "Look," she said with a smile. "I was going to head to Flourish and Blotts and grab a nice good book to curl up in front of the fire with. Why don't you join me there - and you can get to know me better by my book selections?"

"I take it that's what the Floo powder's for..."

She rolled her eyes. "This really is difficult for you, isn't it?"

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"Isn't that half the fun of meeting new people?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said drily. "Most people I know obey these things called 'social norms' and 'politeness'."

She looked over at him, her eyes raking over his body. He couldn't tell what she was thinking - but it couldn't be good, considering he was wearing the shabby coat again, and a pair of pants that had more patches than a scout blanket. Someone who spent her whole day working with the biggest lawyers and advisors in Britain surely couldn't be impressed by what he looked like. "You don't look like the sort of bloke who follows social norms and customs," she said softly.

"It's the suit, isn't it?"

"There's a suit under all those patches?" she exclaimed, laughing. "I'm sorry. I really am making fun of you now."

He shrugged. "I'm used to it. Now what were you saying about Flourish and Blotts?"

She winked, and threw her Floo powder into the fire. "That you are very welcome to join me there - if you're quick enough -" and she jumped into the bright green flames, her red ponytail the last to disappear.

Well. He certainly wasn't going to back down from that challenge.

Stepping out of the fire on the other side, he saw her leaning against the door, tapping her watch. "I was barely ten seconds behind you and you know it," he yelled across to her, and she laughed as he joined her.

"So. Edgar Spore, hmm?"

"What about him?"

"He speaks of himself in the third person, apparently."

Scorpius flushed. That had been a slip, but not a fatal one. Plenty of (odd) people did that all the time. "Shut up."

Flourish and Blotts was only a few stores down, and it didn't take them long to reach it. "Bit cold out," Rose commented. "Winter's coming."

"Winter's months away. Toughen up."

"Hey! I'm not protected by three layers of patches!"

They stepped into the shop, which Scorpius had to admit was at a much more comfortable temperature than the crisp air outside. He wouldn't call it cold, not yet, but it was definitely on the way.

"You like winter?" he asked. Hey, conversation was conversation.

"I like wearing winter coats," she said thoughtfully. "You don't have to decide what to wear every day."

He laughed. "Most people do wear clothes under their coats..."

"Shut up, you perv, of course I wear clothes. But no-one can see them, so they can't have an opinion."

"Do they usually?"

She rolled her eyes. "In magical law? Are you serious? They're the biggest bunch of snobs around. If you're wearing anything less than Wizard Designer you're doomed to sweeping out the broom cupboard. It's ridiculous."

He looked over at her. Her clothes looked perfectly fine to him - a grey skirt, a white blouse, stockings, what else did she need?

"Don't use me as a guide," she told him, noticing his stare. "You'd think this would be fine, wouldn't you? But even my boss, who dresses like a Malfoy house-elf -" Scorpius jumped - "says I need to start dressing smarter if I want to get anywhere in law."

"I'm sure the colour of your scarf is an excellent measure of your legal capabilities."

She shrugged. "Eh, clothes are clothes. They pay me enough that I can buy whatever'll make them happy. As long as I don't have to wear this crap on the weekend."

"Not a fan of stockings?"

"In this weather? I love them!" She turned to face the bookshelves, and led him into the first aisle. "But I digress. I believe we were meant to be sharing our literary interests..."

He followed her into the aisle. He didn't know this section of the shop very well - when he came here along, he usually went straight to the back, where the Mysteries books were kept. If he was feeling adventurous, he'd even branch out and read one on Prophecies instead of Time...

This aisle seemed to be full of older books. Mysteries books were kept constantly updated - ancient theories were all very well and good, but anyone interested in the Ministry's latest findings weren't going to read something from the eighteenth century, were they?

Not that he had anything against older books, of course. He pulled one off the shelf at random. It was thick and heavy, and the leather binding was almost crumbling, but something about the book appealed to him. _The olde styles of reading the ..._ read the cover, the final words obscured by centuries of dust.

"Has anyone touched these books in the last hundred years?" he whispered.

She looked at the book he was holding. "_The olde styles _- why are you looking at a book about palm reading?"

"What?" He grabbed the book back from her. "Palm reading? This aisle is full of divination crap, isn't it? Please tell me that doesn't fall under your literary interests..."

She looked offended for a minute. "And if it did?"

Of course it didn't. Rose had spent the last four years at Hogwarts laughing at anyone who took the subject seriously. Unless she'd only been doing that as a cover-up - this could be interesting, he realised. Spore was a stranger to her - maybe she'd admit things she wouldn't normally admit to someone she knew well...

"Of course it doesn't, it's palm reading. Honestly. Who would want to make a living out of checking out people's wrinkles?"

They laughed. "Really, though," Scorpius said. "What is this section?"

"This aisle? Oh, it's just old books. Mostly on philosophy, divination, magical theory, that sort of stuff."

"Including law books?" he asked skeptically. "Though your lawyers are dusty enough. Might as well have the books to match."

"I'm a lawyer, thank you very much."

Well, sort of. But he didn't comment.

"But I'm not here to look at law books," she continued. "I get enough of that at work, don't you think? It's just reading all the damn time. And you can't just sit and enjoy the book - you're constantly analysing and judging and thinking - Merlin, so much thinking! Sometimes you just want to - stand in a bookshelf and breathe in the air, you know?"

He took a breath. She was right. There was something about that old-book smell - dusty, murky, soft, just old - that instantly calmed him down.

And there was something about the jasmine perfume she was wearing that instantly revved him back up again.

He took a step back, pretending to browse the shelf in front of him. She was just talking to him, for Pete's sake, she wasn't inviting him to jump her bones - and the more time he spent that close to her, the more tempting that impulse became. Time and a place, mate, he told himself. Time and a place.

"Why do you do it, then, if you think it's so stressful?"

He was genuinely interested in her answer, he realised. Sure, Rose complained about work - everyone did - but with Rose it was always just the same things anyone could say. Yeah, my boss is being a bit of an arse. Work's alright, got a big report due. That sort of thing. Never anything personal. Even what she'd just said was pushing the boundaries of what she'd ever told Scorpius...

She shrugged. "It's not stressful. Stressful is the wrong word. It's just..." She paused, fingering one of the pages in her book. "It's quite difficult sometimes. From an emotional point of view. You've got a case, sometimes a case that could be cited for years to come in rights reforms - I'm talking across Europe here - and you sit there reading case after case well into the night and you can't find the crucial bit of information that'll make it work? It's crap."

Scorpius pretended to be reading a book. Sort of. Well, pretended to be pretending to be utterly engrossed in a book, to hide his - Edgar's - embarrassment. "So you must be pretty high up, then. I mean, if you're working on cases that'll impact the rest of Europe..."

"I want to be," she said baldly. "I'm not, really, but some of the cases I work on could impact all of Britain. And those are the cases that are used in the Europe-wide reforms, aren't they?" She shrugged. "Ultimately I know I'm going to end up there. It's just a matter of time. It's what I've wanted all my life - or ever since I discovered the Hogwarts house-elves spend half their day making chocolate muffins and aren't even allowed to eat them..."

"I'd sneak one anyway - or two, or five," he said, laughing, then paused. "You sound awfully confident you'll get where you want to go."

Shrugging, she replaced her book on the shelves. "I'm confident about my work."

"And other things?"

"Such as?"

He took his chance. "Your personal life."

She looked directly at him. "At the moment? Terrifies me."

Terrified her? He'd never known Rose Weasley to be terrified in her life. "Surely it can't be that bad?"

She smiled wryly. "It's not, really. I'm overreacting. It's just - well. I care about work. But I need the people around me even more. And I'm absolutely terrified of changing the dynamics of that. And I'm - it's hard to explain, but let's just say I'm in a position right now where I could change the dynamics fairly dramatically."

She could be talking about starting a relationship with Finch.

He caught his breath. Or him.

"It's weird, talking like this to a stranger." She took a breath, and frowned. "I feel like I've told you more in the last two minutes than I've ever told - anyone."

"I don't mind."

She laughed. "I feel like a bit of an idiot now."

"Don't you have anyone to confide in?" _Like me_, he added silently. "Surely your friends care about this sort of stuff? They wouldn't think you're an idiot."

She looked away. "They care about me," she said softly. "A lot. But I don't - I just don't like to take risks."

"In case they find out you've failed?"

She gave him a sharp look. "I don't want to ruin things with...them. I just - I'm not -" She broke off, chewing her fingernails, and looked away again. "I know what to do at work. It's crap and it's hard work but I know how to do it and I know why I'm doing it. I'm confident there, you know? But with love -"

She didn't speak for a moment. "Don't stop."

"I don't know where I stand with love," she admitted. "I take risks all the time at work. Because I know they'll pay off. But I have no idea - no, I do know, but I'm absolutely terrified of the consequences of taking risks in my personal life. And how am I supposed to prove I can do it in front of them if I can't even do it by myself, when no-one I know is around?"

Scorpius swallowed, hardly daring to hope. "Maybe you should start taking risks, then. To prove it to yourself. Before you prove it to them."

She spun to face him. "Maybe I should start right now."

He stared at her, and she stared right back. He could almost touch the tension in the air between them - he wouldn't be surprised if gold sparks started flying through the air -

And all that tension was inside him, too, and he almost couldn't stand it. He broke off the stare, and looked down at his shaking fingers. He couldn't stop moving them - he felt like if he touched something - anything - Rose - he'd collapse, discharge, explode...

She took a step forward. He reached out his hand, pulling her towards him, and she wound her arms around his neck -


	7. The Champagne Glass

**Disclaimer: I'm a mechatronic engineering student, not JK Rowling**

**A/N: Sorry, uploaded a not-quite-finished version at first, hopefully you're reading this version! Thanks very much for the reviews on the last chapter... all of them :)  
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* * *

><p>- And then she was kissing him, her mouth capturing his, and finally all that energy had somewhere to go, discharging itself through her mouth, her lips, her fingertips against his neck.<p>

He groaned, and pulled her closer, his own arms wrapping around her waist. Her mouth was soft, yielding, but hesitant, all at the same time. He could feel her skin through her thin shirt, warm not just on her face but on her waist as well. He dragged his fingers over her back as she leaned into him, deepening the kiss.

Rose, he thought he whispered, but he couldn't tell if he'd actually said the words - and he didn't much care. Rose's tongue flicked awkwardly over the corner of his lips, and suddenly he couldn't contain the burst of euphoria that rose up from his stomach -

He was kissing Rose! He, Scorpius Malfoy, was kissing Rose Weasley, and she was kissing him back -

Well, she was kissing someone back.

Rose must have sensed his slight withdrawal, because she tried to draw away, but he wouldn't - couldn't - let her. He didn't care that she was kissing Edgar Spore. He didn't care that she wasn't kissing Scorpius Malfoy. Because right now her mouth - her tongue - was doing crazy things to his, things that made him shiver from head to toe and wonder what else she could do with her -

He groaned again, pulling her into his body so she was pressed flush against him, the tilt of her head pronounced as she finally opened her eyes and looked straight up at him.

Edgar, he knew she'd say, and he knew he couldn't let her say it. The outside world, his whole pretence, their strictly bounded friendship - none of it existed right now, right here, with Rose Weasley in his arms and her tongue in his mouth. He pushed his mouth against hers, abandoning whatever technique he'd had in favour of a desperate need to keep her here forever.

She moved her hand so it cupped his cheek. Closing her eyes, she sighed, and ran her fingertips down his jaw. He hadn't shaved - as Edgar or Scorpius - and the hair bristled at her touch, sending goosebumps down his leg. Still she continued to kiss him, their mouths moving together as he tried to tell her everything he wished he could say for real.

_I'm Scorpius._ A nibble on her lower lip, and a soft moan she didn't bother to hide.

_You don't want Finch. _ A flick of his tongue across the corner of her mouth.

_You don't want Edgar. _A graze of his fingers across the plain of her back, as he pulled her even closer.

_You want me. _An insistent prod against her mouth, demanding access that she willingly gave.

_Scorpius. _ A groan -

_I want you. _

"This is a respectable bookstore, not a Hogwarts broom closet!"

Scorpius jumped, untangling himself from Rose, and stared up at the source of the hiss. "Weasley! I -"

Since when did Fred Weasley work at Flourish and Blotts? Dammit, Fred was probably the last person Scorpius would have picked to discover him and Rose at the back of his store...

"Spent a lot of time in Hogwarts broom closets yourself, Fred?" Rose asked brightly, while he continued to stare blankly. Where had she learned how to deal with -

Oh. Right. The Weasley family. Rose had had a lot of experience bluffing her way through these kinds of situations.

Fred couldn't resist a smirk. "None of your business, young lady, but if you don't mind, that old lady in the corner is about to have a heart attack, and I highly doubt that'd be good for my own business, so if you wouldn't mind getting the hell out of my store..."

"Yes, sir!" Rose said with a salute. "I always aim to please."

He whispered something under his breath, something about "I could see that" and "proving quite thoroughly", and escorted them to the door, past the disapproving glares of the woman in the corner.

"Since when is it your store, anyway?"

Fred gave his own salute. "Since I'm about to get a promotion to floor manager."

"You do realise that old lady in the corner is Bathsheda Babbling, right?" Rose whispered, as they were ushered through the door. "If mum's stories about her youth are anything to go by, I highly doubt she's in any medical danger whatsoever."

He shrugged. "Gotta look good in front of the boss," he told her, with a significant look at the front counter. "And speaking of your mother..."

"She isn't going to hear about this, so I'm not sure how she's involved in this incident."

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Fred called after them as they stepped out into the street. Rose laughed.

The sun had set while they'd been inside. With a last glance towards the store - a glance reciprocated by Fred in the doorway, with a wink - he finally felt himself relax, and as they walked he suddenly felt the urge to laugh.

"Let it out," Rose told him - and he had no choice but to comply, didn't he? He began to laugh, starting with a smirk, then a chuckle, until finally both of them were clutching their sides and Scorpius had to move off the path to calm himself down.

He stopped, suddenly, and grabbed her arm. "That was fun," he said seriously. "We - we should do it again sometime."

Rose looked up at him, with a smile that was both adorable and - something else. "You want a repeat performance?" she asked, a glint in her eye.

"I -" Repeat performance?

She wriggled closer to him, taking advantage of the darkness and the cover of the shop they were standing in front of. Her lips teased closer to his, and he felt his heart beat faster and his breath come in jerks -

She pecked his cheek, and gave him a grin. "Maybe you'll get one - when we're not standing in the middle of Diagon Alley."

Right. Diagon Alley. He touched his cheek, and gave her a lopsided grin. Rose Weasley had just kissed him, for the second time, in the middle of the street. Surely he could be forgiven for feeling a little lopsided himself...

Rose turned around, and began walking down the alley again. The rush of people heading home from work had long since subsided, but the late-night rush hadn't yet started. The street was nearly empty, and Scorpius was reminded of the last time he'd walked down this road with Rose - it had been twilight then, too, and he'd felt the same giddy feeling of happiness -

No, it wasn't the same. Nowhere near equal to this feeling. He looked over at her, knowing he was grinning like an idiot, but not particularly caring. Rose had kissed him. Rose had kissed him _multiple times_, he could now say. Sure, there weren't any buskers, or any romantic jazz filtering through the streets tonight. But this silence was infinitely better - because _she_ was here, and not just as his friend -

"Penny?" Rose asked, and he blushed.

"I've had a very good time tonight," he said honestly.

"Had?" she asked, laughing. "It's barely _eight_. The evening's just beginning."

He looked carefully at her, trying to decide if there was an invitation hidden in there - and immediately felt ashamed of what he'd hoped that invitation might be. He felt the blush rise further up his cheeks, and hoped desperately that she couldn't see it in the darkness...

"Well, I've had a good time all day," he said, stumbling over his words as he rushed to cover the silence. "All day. In the morning, even. And you weren't even there."

"You're rambling."

"I like you."

She stared, and just for a moment her gaze turned wistful. "I like you, too," she said after a minute, then smiled. "You're so simple. Uncomplicated. I've really enjoyed tonight, too."

"Want to do it again sometime? I'm serious."

"I'm serious too. I'd love to get to know you better."

He caught his breath. "To show yourself you can take risks?"

"Maybe to show myself I can live in the moment."

So could he. He reached over, and - feeling like a schoolboy again - grabbed her hand, grasping it in his. She looked up at him, and for the moment that their eyes met, Scorpius forgot about everything - work, bosses, Finch, potions - everything except the girl in front of him, looking into his eyes, her red curls wisping slightly in the breeze like the autumn leaves that shared their colour. He grinned, breaking their gaze to look down at their joined hands, and wondered how just holding hands could make him feel so poetic...

"Got any plans for the evening?" Rose asked casually.

He grimaced. Way to break the spell, Rose. "Work," he muttered - then caught himself. _ Dammit, Scorpius, the spell was on Edgar, not you_. "Finding it, I mean. Got a contact today."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really? Let me know if I can help you with it -"

"No!" he said, much too loudly, and she almost jumped. "I - it's a masculine pride thing," he said quickly. Two slips in a row. He really had to get back into Edgar mode.

He really didn't want to.

"Well. You know what I'm doing tonight. Curling up in front of the fire - sans book, thanks to your little performance in Flourish and Blotts -"

"_My_ little performance?" he teased. "If I recall correctly, you were a very willing participant..."

She raised herself on tiptoes to kiss him again, this time on the corner of his mouth. "It still leaves me without entertainment for the night..."

He couldn't help himself. "Rose! You've just met me!"

She sighed. "I know. I wouldn't really invite you in. I'd chicken out at the last minute, I'm sorry. Kissing you in the bookstore will have to be all the risk-taking I'll do for tonight."

He was glad she wasn't going to go home with a man she'd - for all she knew - only just met.

But still. Damn his gentlemanly instincts!

He changed the subject. "What books do you like reading, then? I never got the chance to find out, after all."

"Lots of things. Fantasy stories, mostly. Adventures about unicorns and centaurs and legends and treasure."

"You don't get enough of that at work?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't work there if I didn't love the subject. Other creatures are fascinating. Why wouldn't I want to read adventures involving them?"

"Muggle or wizard?" he asked, and she looked at him curiously.

"Wizard," she answered finally. "Purely because they do them right. They're not just caricatures from some ancient long-lost old wives' tale. But sometimes Muggle stories can be interesting. Reducing something to its most basic characteristics can tell you a lot about it."

"What would Muggle stories say about you?" he asked. "If they could reduce you down to a sentence or a paragraph."

She cocked her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think I could say, actually - can anyone, really? I think I'm much too complicated to sum up in a sentence."

"Maybe a complete stranger could."

"Now where would I find a complete stranger?"

He laughed. "Don't look at me. I'm definitely at least on friendly acquaintance level now."

"You're right, though, I think," she said thoughtfully, nodding. "Maybe you need a complete stranger to tell you what you are. I mean, that's how they store you, isn't it? Inside their heads? 'Rose Weasley, five ten, nine inches of dragon heartstring...'"

"What about 'Rose Weasley, great hair, beautiful laugh, strangely attracted to the unemployed'?"

She touched her hair self-consciously. "Is that what a certain friendly acquaintance thinks?"

"It's what a certain friendly acquaintance will confirm, if you kiss him again."

"In that case..."

She kissed Edgar again in the shadows. He closed his eyes, and imagined her kissing Scorpius in the light.

* * *

><p>"You're barely forty-five, Mother, you're hardly on your deathbed."<p>

"And you're nearly twenty-one, and your father was married at that age."

"Merlin, Mother, this is the twenty-first century. No-one gets married at twenty-one. I'm not expecting to get married for - oh, ten years, at least."

He threw the figure out randomly, not particularly caring about its value. This was turning out to be a most unpromising start to an evening he'd been greatly looking forward to.

"I'm not telling you to pick out the wedding flowers, for crying out loud," Astoria said impatiently, clicking her fingernails against her glass. "All I'm saying is you need to start thinking about it. Despite your little dodges, you are the heir to a rather large estate. You have responsibilities, Scorpius. And if you don't act on them soon - well, the prey in question might be caught by somebody else."

"You mean Rose."

She waved her glass. "Of course I mean Rose. I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart. Yes, Rose. If I recall correctly, your little friend was about to snag her from under your eyes."

"He's six foot three, Mother, he's hardly little. And why are you suddenly so concerned about me getting married? I'm not even in a relationship with the girl. A girl who is probably the most unsuitable choice for a Malfoy bride I could possibly have selected, by the way."

"That's your father's problem, isn't it?"

He noticed she didn't answer the question.

She lowered her voice as she continued. "You say you're not in a relationship with her. I'm going to be magnanimous, and add a 'yet' to the end of that statement. How is that plan of yours going?"

He grinned inwardly, but kept his face impassive. "It's fine, Mother. There's no urgency any longer. Don't worry about it. You'll be waiting a long time if you're looking for me to propose."

"Oh, be quiet about that, it was just a friendly reminder. Subtlety is wasted on you when it comes to these sorts of things. As long as you remember your position, I've got better things to do than nag you about it like a fishwife. Such as making sure those centerpieces are actually in the centre of the tables," she called out loudly, and the house-elf nearest to them jumped.

"Be nice," he chided. "You've been running them ragged all afternoon."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "I'm paying them good money to be here."

Which was true, in a sense. House-elves refused to take money as payment, but in the last few decades it had become more and more common to reward house-elves in the form of gifts. In Lylee's case, mostly sweets. Astoria didn't admit it, but Scorpius knew she personally prepared the small baskets that appeared at Lylee's door every Tuesday.

"She is coming tonight, isn't she?" she asked.

Scorpius nodded. "She'll be late. I told her to come in time for dinner."

Astoria waved her glass again, and the crystal shimmered in the light. "All she's missing is the pre-dinner cocktails. Work, I presume?"

"A business meeting, relating to an upcoming case, I believe."

A wistful look appeared briefly in Astoria's eyes, before disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared. "I would have preferred it if she had attended as your partner," she said, but Scorpius had a feeling it wasn't what she had been thinking of saying.

"Of course she's coming as my partner, I invited her."

"Still. I wouldn't have minded seeing you walk down those stairs together."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I'll escort her in to dinner, I promise."

"That's a given, dear." She kissed his cheek. "Now, I really do have arrangements I need to make. The guests are going to be here in half an hour, and I can hardly greet them looking like this, can I?"

He laughed as she walked - _sailed_ - off. She looked beautiful, as she knew perfectly well. For someone who complained that she was practically on her deathbed, age had been remarkably kind to her.

Spending her days at beauty spas probably had something to do with it, too.

He looked around the room, alone now except for the two house-elves. Which wasn't odd, at Malfoy Manor. Despite the growing chill outside, it was warm in this ballroom, thanks to the lamps burning on the walls and more than a few warming charms. He should know - he'd placed them there himself.

He checked his pocket watch, feeling a bit like an idiot as he did so. He wasn't used to wearing dress robes - especially not ones as fancy as these. Until this year, Mother had always let him wear plain robes to these dinner parties.

But this year he was trying to impress a girl.

Ten minutes to seven. He sighed. Just because Mother always arrived half an hour late didn't mean everyone else would. Thankfully, the house-elves seemed to be operating on a more reasonable clock, because the decorations looked complete - as far as he could tell - and small tables had been set up in the entry hall for drinks and snacks, while their guests waited for Astoria to finish reapplying her lipstick. Or whatever it was women did upstairs in moments like this.

Scorpius suspected it had more to do with wanting to make an entrance down those stairs herself.

"Merlin, I love seeing you in dress robes."

He turned to the voice. "Get out of here. Wait in the hall like everyone else."

"Scorpius, mate, what kind of way is that to greet your best friend?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he walked over to the ballroom door. "You'll miss Mother's entrance if you're tucked away in the ballroom."

"Oh, please, she won't be here until at least half past. Why do you think she always makes you come to these things?"

"To find me a wife?"

Finch laughed. "Back onto that again, is she? No, it's so you can greet all the guests at the door, so she doesn't have to. Where's Draco?"

"Dunno. Upstairs? I haven't been paying much attention, to be honest, what with all this going on all day."

"Upstairs, huh?" Finch winked. "With your mother?"

_Thanks for the image, Finch._ "Surely not. She'd wrinkle her dress, and you know how she feels about wrinkles."

"Just saying. That's what I'd be doing if I had to spend the next five hours dancing attendance on the idiot wizarding elite. Giving myself something to help me get through the tedium."

"Watch your mouth. Those idiot wizarding elite are probably standing right behind you." He grinned. "Do you include me and Rose in that category?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I've never called you elite in my life."

"What did that one line in the Ministry brochure say about the Department of Mysteries? Something about 'an elite, highly secretive body'?"

Finch snorted. "Fair point. You've got to be pretty elite to deal with Bletchley on a daily basis, that's for sure."

"Speaking of Bletchley - have you heard anything more about the new boss?"

Finch straightened. "Actually, yeah. It's -"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Tell me later, okay? Time to go do my duty..."

He walked quickly over to the large doors, and felt sorry for whoever was standing outside. The front doors of Malfoy Manor were still intimidating. Efforts had been made inside the house to make it warm and inviting, but whenever Scorpius stood outside those doors - or the gates - he was reminded that it was all just a facade, an illusion. At least it wasn't raining outside. Now that was gloomy.

"Lord and Lady George Barbary," Lylee said loudly, reading their card.

Scorpius held back a snicker. The magical world didn't have titles, but Lord Barbary, having had an ancestor in the Muggle House of Lords, was determined to introduce the custom. He smiled at the two, who looked around the room disdainfully. "We are the first to arrive?" Lady Barbary asked, not deigning to look at him.

He gestured to the empty room. "As you can see." He winked at Finch, standing in the corner behind a potted palm. He wasn't hiding, as such - Lady Barbary just chose not to see what wasn't convenient. "Our house-elf Lylee would be glad to bring you a drink, while you wait. Lady Mary, there are couches in the corner if you would prefer to stand."

He felt like a butler. He always did at occasions like this one. Lord and Lady Barbary weren't the only ones in his parents' circle with delusions of grandeur - and some had more than delusions. The whole circle was upper-class, and every one of them knew it.

What had Mother said earlier? _You are the heir to a rather large estate... you have responsibilities_... Someday all this would be his. Someday he'd have his own son, awkwardly greeting his parents' friends while the parents in question entertained themselves upstairs, in jewels and silks and roses.

Lord Barbary nodded curtly at him as he walked past, and he felt about a foot shorter than he actually was. How were these people friends with anyone, let alone his parents?

He knew the answer. They weren't, but their social position demanded that they receive an invitation. Lady Mary was a Selwyn, a pureblood family stretching back to the Middle Ages. Was that what he was signing himself up for? Having to invite the wizarding elite to every dinner party for some stupid society reason?

He thought of Rose and the Weasleys, and the last party they'd had. Their family reunion, x weeks ago. Where Fred and James had played pranks on the food, and everyone had gathered around and shouted out to people on the other end of the table. And magical law enforcement had been called, and Rose had sighed and chalked it up to another day in the Weasley household. Astoria would have retreated to her room for a week, dreading having to face her friends after such a scandal...

But the Malfoy family probably had more reason than most to avoid the attention of the law.

He went back over to Finch. "I see what you mean about the idiot wizarding elite," he whispered to Finch. "The evening's barely started, and I'm already exhausted. I always forget how snobby their friends are."

"I could do the greetings for you, if you like," Finch suggested, leaning against the wall. "I get it all the time with Grandma's friends. I imagine Muggle snobs work much the same as wizard ones."

Scorpius laughed, but before he could continue, another set of guests arrived at the door. He was kept busy for another fifteen minutes at least, greeting people he hadn't spoken more than ten words to in the last three years. He felt a sigh of relief when he saw his father come down the stairs, straightening his bow tie as he walked.

"Good evening, Father," Scorpius said formally, and Draco nodded distractedly.

"I'll take over the greetings, if you like."

Scorpius nodded. They were his friends, after all.

"Blah and Blah Blah," Lylee announced, as Scorpius went back to the corner where Finch was still standing, whiskey glass in hand.

"I see Lylee's made sure you're refreshed."

Finch laughed. "She likes me. You should have seen the look on Parkinson's face when she served me first instead of her. I bet she doesn't even know who I am."

"You're an eligible gentleman between the ages of seventeen and eighty," Scorpius said drily. "Of course she knows who you are."

Finch shuddered eloquently. "Imagine spending the rest of your life with _that_."

"I'm sure she has redeeming characteristics."

"Name one."

"She has her own flat. You could move out of your grandmother's place."

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire?" Finch gave Scorpius a significant look. "Speaking of eligible gentlemen, and by extension eligible young ladies - is Rose coming tonight, by any chance?"

Finch didn't know? "Yes," he said cautiously. "But probably not for a while. She's coming for dinner, after work. Didn't she tell you?"

"Why would she tell me? You're her date."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes, then made a decision. He strode out of the entry hall, gesturing at Finch to follow him, down a passage that led to the library. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to give me an honest answer. The whole answer. No avoiding the question or missing any points out."

Finch frowned, closing the door behind him. "This is about Rose, isn't it?"

"What exactly is between you and her?" Scorpius asked directly. "She says there's nothing, but you've been spending all this time together - giving each other gifts -" He broke off. "And I saw you at the Leaky Cauldron together."

"There is absolutely nothing between us," Finch replied, just as directly, looking straight into his eyes. "We've gotten to know each other better in the last few weeks, yeah. But I promise you, there is nothing romantic, or sexual, or any feelings whatsoever that go beyond the platonic. We're friends, mate, and I'm not interested in her that way."

"The Leaky Cauldron -"

Finch burst out laughing. "Can I tell you something about the Leaky Cauldron?"

Scorpius looked at him warily.

"It has a very sexy, very charming bartender."

"Mrs Longbottom?" Scorpius exclaimed, and Finch rolled his eyes.

"_Miss_ Longbottom," he corrected. "Honestly, Scorp, you're an idiot sometimes."

Scorpius frowned. "If whatsherface Longbottom -"

"Augusta."

"- is really your current interest, I hardly think snuggling with another girl up against the bar is the way to show it."

"Snuggling? Who even says that?"

Scorpius waved his hands impatiently. "Well, me, obviously. And you haven't answered the question."

Finch looked away. "Rose was giving me romantic advice, can we leave it at that?"

It wasn't the full story, and they both knew it. But Scorpius was satisfied on the main point, even if Finch still hadn't explained what had happened that night. But if both Finch and Rose insisted that there was another explanation, even if they wouldn't share it -

"As long as you and Rose -"

"We're not. I promise. Scout's honour."

"What?"

"Never mind."

- Well, Scorpius was inclined to believe them.

* * *

><p>"His name's Rupert Flint," Finch confided over the dessert bowls.<p>

Scorpius swallowed his mouthful of strawberries and cream. "Never heard of him," he mumbled, then caught a glimpse of his mother glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. "She's on the other side of the table, and she can still tell I'm eating with my mouth full."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "You're not exactly taking great pains to conceal it."

"Oh, please, everyone here is so drunk, they're hardly going to notice the kid at the end of the table."

"I can hear you chewing from here," she said primly, but he could see the laughter in her eyes. "Didn't your mother teach you table manners?"

"I've had three years living out of home to unlearn them, haven't I?"

Finch coughed. "I wouldn't be so flippant about Flint if I were you. He doesn't have the best reputation."

Scorpius sat up a little straighter at that. The Department's academic requirements were rigorous - so Scorpius knew Finch wasn't talking about his skill as an Unspeakable. "Is he the type to bother about trainees?"

"He's the type that's really bothered about employees who aren't being as productive as they could be," Finch replied significantly.

Scorpius groaned. "Such as employees who haven't submitted a project report in three years?"

Rose looked at him, looking worried. "I thought your project was going well."

"Not that well," he admitted, not looking at her. "Listen, Finch, how long d'you reckon it'll be before he takes over?"

Finch shrugged. "Bletchley's only required to give a month's notice. And it's already been a week. I don't imagine he'll mess around once he gets the job, either."

"So I've got three weeks to finish my project."

"Yes. And, since technically we're now in public, that's all we should probably say on the matter. "

Rose turned the conversation to family, as the plates started disappearing from the table. He'd known this was coming, of course. He'd been pushing the limits of their patience for three years, for Pete's sake. But Bletchley hadn't minded, as long as he was doing _something_. Flint sounded like the sort of man who'd fire him on the spot.

"Scorpius? Are you even listening?"

What? He shook his head to clear it. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Victoire and Teddy are getting married," she almost squealed. "At Christmas, probably, or maybe January. They just told us last night."

That was nice. He liked Teddy. He'd always gone out of his way to make Scorpius feel welcome, on the few occasions he'd visited the Weasley house. "How long have they been together now?"

Rose shrugged. "No idea. They're one of those couples who just slid together, without us ever really noticing." She frowned. "Well, except for that camping incident. Which was the Christmas just before I went to Hogwarts - Merlin, is it that long already? But that's another story. Everyone knew they were going to get together sometime..."

She caught Scorpius' eye, and for a moment they stared at each other, until Finch cleared his throat. His heart was beating faster, Scorpius suddenly noticed.

Had Rose been talking about Teddy and Victoire at all?

"Well, congratulations to them both," Finch said loudly, just as the band behind him struck up a ... . The guests all turned to face the dance floor, as Draco stood up and offered his hand to his wife. She placed hers in his, and smiled up at him as they opened the dancing. Scorpius watched them, a little wistful at the obvious bond between them. Their friendships might be fake, but their relationship was definitely not...

"Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Don't look at me like that! I'm just your mother's proxy," Rose hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "You're supposed to ask me to dance."

"Oh, crap, really?" He'd totally forgotten about it, and now Astoria was glaring at him over the table for neglecting his family duties.

Rose rolled her eyes. "My dancing isn't that bad," she said. "Come on."

"I didn't mean -"

"Of course you didn't."

He pushed his chair out abruptly, and held out his hand. Mirroring Astoria, she placed her hand in his, more gently than he'd expected. He wasn't used to seeing her in formal situations. In his mind she was always outside with her family, or lecturing him about goblin rights, or kissing him in the middle of Diagon Alley -

That last was a recent addition to his memories. A much-welcomed one, too.

But tonight she was with Scorpius, and he'd never seen her look so beautiful as she did now, looking up at him with that smile on her face. He'd seen her looking sexy, adorable, pretty - but tonight, as she took his hand and he led her to the dance floor, he felt a jolt of sensation rush through his body. Something that had nothing to do with desire or kisses - though he couldn't truthfully say that those emotions weren't present too - but everything to do with _her_, and the fact that he was here, with her, and he was holding her close, wrapped in his arms. He couldn't put a name to it, but one word came sharply to his mind.

_Mine_.

It was a possessive word, and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

She looked into his eyes again, as they fell into step with the music. Blue, like her father's, and he stared right back, taking note of every fleck and marking. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, and she blushed, breaking her gaze away.

"Thanks," she muttered, her cheeks still pink. "You look quite nice too."

"Is that all the compliment I'm going to get tonight?" he teased, and she looked back up again, breaking the spell. That strange, possessive feeling had disappeared, as quickly as it had come, and he was relieved to discover it.

"You _know_ you look nice. There are mirrors all along the back wall. I'm sure you can tell for yourself what you look like."

"Don't you know anything about being a dance partner? You should be complimenting me on my wit, my charm -"

She laughed out loud at that. "You're funny."

"In a laughing at me or with me way?"

She smirked. "I do know something about being a dance partner. I'm supposed to be mysterious and flirtatious. Answering that question would be telling."

He laughed awkwardly. "I hardly think you need to flirt with me."

_Dammit why did he always screw up his chances Merlin he was an idiot - _

"But we're dancing," she whispered, leaning closer. "The outside world doesn't matter when you're dancing."

His heart was definitely beating faster now. "Rose -"

And suddenly she was far away from him again, a smile on her face but distance in her eyes.

Dammit, he had screwed it up, again. He'd reminded her that he was Scorpius, her friend, and that she wasn't supposed to be flirting with him. Merlin, he was an idiot - of the absolute worst sort -

"Are you having a good time tonight?" he asked stiffly.

She looked away. "Not flirting doesn't mean we're reduced to drawing-room talk, surely?"

"What would you like to talk about, then? Teddy and Victoire?"

"No!"

He spun her around suddenly, unexpectedly, but she recovered in time to continue the move. It left them facing the same direction, her back pressed up against his chest, and for the split second their bodies were touching he closed his eyes and savoured the feeling. He was bloody useless at flirting with words - but that didn't mean he couldn't show her how he felt another way.

A less threatening way.

Was that why she'd moved away so suddenly? Because their normal verbal exchanges had turned into something... more?

The dance ended, and Rose dropped his hand immediately, thanking him for the dance with a tight smile. "See, that wasn't so hard. Astoria would be proud."

She wasn't going to turn what had happened into a family duty, dammit. He watched her walk back to the table, but in his mind he saw her face as she'd pulled back from him during that dance.

_...I'm absolutely terrified of the consequences..._

Her words from Wednesday floated back into his head, and suddenly they made a curious kind of sense.

_I don't want to ruin things with...them._

He remembered that pause clearly, as the words played over and over in his mind.

What had she really meant to say?


	8. The Butterbeer Bowl

**Disclaimer: not mine**

**A/N: So yeah. I'd like to say this is three weeks late because I was determined for it to be perfect, but actually it's because I'm just coming out of final exams at uni so for the last few weeks I've been flat out with assessment and exams. As of Wednesday though I'm free to write every second of the day if I so choose (I may choose to laze around by the pool instead though.)**

***Wonders if she should admit to doing NaNoWriMo, or if that would be considered a betrayal of Rose and Scorpius***

* * *

><p>Scorpius eased open the door to the Time Chamber. No-one was in the office - though he'd heard some strange noises in the Brain Room - and he breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to concentrate if he was going to get anywhere on his project today.<p>

The chamber looked exactly as it had appeared on Friday afternoon. In other words, his desk was still piled full of Muggle textbooks and strewn with long rolls of parchment and paper. He sighed. He'd better get into it.

But it was just so hard when he didn't have any idea what he was supposed to be doing. For the last month he'd been waiting for the 'pop' - that instant where everything falls into place, and the answer seems so obvious that you can't believe you haven't noticed it all this time - but until now? Nothing. And all the piles of textbooks told him was that he was still nowhere near the answer.

He walked over to his bench, his footsteps echoing in the long, empty chamber. The first of the textbooks was still open where he'd left it. A "Physics" one, from the library of one of London's Muggle universities. He'd had to take the train again - this time thankfully free of hair-related incidents...

"Relativity" read the chapter title. A simple enough word. He even knew what it meant now.

It would be nice if he could work out how it could stop Time.

Sighing again, he sat down, and began to read. Two weeks. In two weeks, he had to show the results of his research to Flint. Two weeks, after three years.

After - it must have been an hour, surely? - he still had no idea what was going on. There was a lot of talk of trains and trees and lightning and nothing at all about time stopping. Hang on - if it could slow down - in one reference frame - could it stop in another? He frantically paged through the book again, trying to find that equation again, the one he didn't understand but which explained how time was experienced -

Dammit, this was useless.

He sat back on his chair, leaning back until the front legs rocked off the ground, and he grinned as he realised what Bletchley would say if he could see it. Not that Bletchley ever came out of his office.

Not that Bletchley would be staying in his office for very much longer.

His expression sobered. No, Flint would be coming out of that office from now on, and Scorpius' fairly carefree days in the Time Chamber would be over. He realised how little he'd actually done over the last three years, and the thought suddenly angered him.

Dammit, Scorpius Malfoy, you useless bloody wanker of a prick!

Merlin, what a frigging waste of three years. If he was just going to make himself look busy, why hadn't he spent it looking busy on his own bloody project? At least then he'd have picked up the general idea of what the hell was going on. At least then he wouldn't have to spend his last two weeks just doing the basic_ introductory research_!

He tried to imagine what life would be like without the Department. Without the Ministry, even, because he didn't think he could face coming here every day and watching that elevator go down to level nine without him.

It was more than just a job to him. He'd wanted to be an Unspeakable - had it at the back of his mind, at least - since third year, second even, when they'd chosen their subjects. And it was perfect. The last three years had been the best of his life. He might not have been working on his time project, but he hadn't wasted it. He'd helped the other Unspeakables with their research, where he was able and allowed, and every scrap of information they fed to him he'd treasured like he would a - a lock of Rose's hair, he thought, his cheeks flushing even though there was no-one to see.

What would Rose think of him if he lost his job? She didn't have any idea he was so close to losing it - well, until Finch's slip at dinner, she hadn't, but even now she thought it was just a passing phase, and he'd get through it, because somehow he always did.

But that was because somehow he always had 'pop' moments.

Edgar would be for nothing, he thought bitterly. The whole reason for Edgar's existence was to set Scorpius in a better light - but if Scorpius lost his job - was _fired_, he thought harshly, giving the bench a kick -

- Well, she might as well choose Edgar.

Maybe he shouldn't go tonight. It wasn't like there was much point, if Scorpius couldn't even hold down a frigging trainee job. Maybe he should cut Edgar loose. The whole idea had been stupid from the start.

But the memory of her lips against his stopped him. He breathed deeply, trying to recapture the scent of her and the evening. Damp cobblestone from the earlier rain, fires - could you smell flames? - burning in shops and pubs, her perfume mingling with what he'd realised with a grimace was Edgar's sweat. What would it smell like if she were kissing him instead?

Dammit, he'd never find out if he couldn't get his head around this stupid Muggle science!

Maybe Muggle science wasn't the answer. It was fascinating, but they saw the world in a completely different way. The universe to them was something to be measured, observed, recorded - but wizards saw it as something to mould to their whims. Time wasn't an unchanging arrow, it was - the word was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite reach it -

It was mud, he decided. Mud to be thrown around and built and rebuilt like sandcastles on the beach.

If you knew how.

* * *

><p>She liked him. He knew she did.<p>

Scorpius wasn't employed in the Department of Mysteries for nothing. He could put two and two together. He could even get the predicted theoretical value of four, within a tolerance of one percent.

(There was always the chance of human error. Especially when that human was Scorpius.)

But what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

He rolled his eyes as he watched himself get changed in the mirror. Muggle clothes this afternoon, for no particular reason, except perhaps that he didn't want to remind himself of the office.

Finch would tell him to just man up and tell her. No, that wasn't quite true. Finch had been telling him to man up and tell her for the last - he wasn't quite sure how long, but the time period would be measured in years.

It wasn't just that he didn't have the courage. Although that was definitely a factor, he thought ruefully, wriggling into his jeans as he sat on the bed. But he'd almost been able to, that time on Rose's couch - and back then he hadn't had a clue how Rose felt about him.

Now he did.

But she didn't.

_But I have no idea - no, I do know, but I'm absolutely terrified of the consequences of taking risks in my personal life._

She had to like him to be nervous about him. Last night had been a 'pop' moment for him, hadn't it? If in a slightly different context. And now that he'd noticed, everything seemed to fall into place.

And as someone who'd spent a lot of time being nervous around girls, Scorpius certainly knew how to recognise the signs.

She wasn't nearly ready to admit her feelings to him in person. So he couldn't tell her Edgar was Scorpius. But in two weeks' time when he got kicked out of the Ministry maybe she wouldn't have those feelings any longer. So maybe he should tell her Edgar was Scorpius.

Screw it.

He pulled on his trainers roughly, tying the laces into something that more closely resembled a bird's nest than a knot.

He was overthinking this. He'd spent too much time in the lab today. Maybe he could take a leaf out of Rose's book - in a way - and just live in the moment tonight. He liked a girl. She liked him. Both of him, in fact. Why couldn't they spend an evening enjoying each other's company?

A coat, because it was cold - a bag of snacks, because he couldn't go empty-handed - oh, and he couldn't forget that, he thought, eyeing the scrap of parchment and small vial on his kitchen counter. That was all he needed, wasn't it? He could leave the stressing and worrying on the counter in its place.

Tonight was just him and Rose.

* * *

><p>"Well, don't just stand there!"<p>

Scorpius blinked as Rose threw open the door.

"I've been standing here for about three seconds!"

"So? I've been standing _here_ for three seconds watching you be awkward. Come in."

He cocked his head. "Hello to you too," he said uncertainly.

She turned around to face him, and the odd expression on her face disappeared as her lips curled into a smile. "I'm sorry. I'll be nice. Which doesn't mean you shouldn't come in."

He laughed, and followed her into her flat, taking off his tattered coat as he did so. She took it from him and placed it carefully on the row of coat hooks next to the door. The third hook, he noticed. She always put Scorpius' coat on the second.

The gesture reminded him that he was Edgar again, not Scorpius. Which meant he shouldn't find it odd if she acted strangely around him. Just because Diagon Alley could almost have been between two best friends didn't mean Edgar and Rose weren't really strangers to each other.

And this was the first time she'd invited him to her flat.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked over her shoulder, moving to the kitchen. "I'm afraid I don't have much. I could get you some juice, if you like. Or cordial. We could go out if you want something stronger?"

He fingered the parchment in his pocket. "Juice is fine. I'm too thirsty to wait, I think," he added, trying to relieve the tension.

"Orange it is."

"How was your weekend?" he asked casually, taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter, and imagined her answer.

_I had a wonderfully romantic dance with the man I'm madly in love with..._

She shrugged. "Went out with some friends. Formal dinner thing. It was alright."

Astoria wouldn't like to hear that, he thought, raising a mental eyebrow. Merely _alright_? After all that effort she'd gone to in rallying the house-elves?

"You?" she asked, and he realised he wasn't going to hear about the dinner party again. She handed him his drink, and as she did her fingertips brushed his larger ones. He raised his glance, but she wasn't looking at him.

"Nothing much," he admitted. "No lead on the job search. Contact didn't turn up, so that hope's gone too."

She nodded, but her eyes seemed distant. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help," she said vaguely. "You'll get there eventually."

Standing up, he shrugged as he picked up his glass. "Want to sit down?" he asked, gesturing towards the couches behind them.

"What? Oh, yes, please sit down, make yourself at home. I'm just going to go to the loo, is that alright?"

He shook his head, smiling. "I give you my permission," he said drily, and she blushed.

Bit of a Scorpius thing to say, really.

But who cared? No overthinking this, he reminded himself. Just be yourself. Except, you know, be Edgar.

She returned after a minute, and he was pleased to see a real smile on her face, for the first time since he'd got here. She carried a box of - were those Exploding Snap cards? - and her drink, and when she sat down it wasn't on the other chair, as he'd expected, but next to him on the couch. He grinned.

"You any good?"

She set the cards down on the table, hands on her hips. "You look like you think you are."

He raised his eyebrows, for real this time. "Guess we'll see, won't we?"

She didn't reply, but he could see by the glint in her eye that she didn't intend to lose.

"No answer?" he teased. "Afraid of a little competition?"

"I don't need words to buck me up," she murmured, and Scorpius was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting on the couch. How this, a conversation they'd had in any number of forms since third year, was suddenly - something else, because he wasn't Scorpius, the kid from Arithmancy, her best friend.

He straightened, clearing his throat, as she leaned over to deal him his cards. She didn't wear tops like _that_ when the kid from Arithmancy came over, either.

When Rose started something, she damn well carried through!

He set up the cards in silence, immediately breaking his rule of not overthinking things by -

"I know what you're thinking," she told him.

"The same way you knew I was standing at the door?"

Her eyes softened. "You're awkward. It's cute. And I know that right now you're trying to decide whether you should let me win, aren't you?"

Was he that transparent? Even through the bloody potion?

"Don't worry," she continued, laying down her first card. "After ten minutes you're not going to be in a position to make that decision."

Three minutes later Scorpius was inclined to agree with her. Scratching the burnt cardboard away from his nose, he held out a char-covered hand to her.

"Admitting defeat so soon?" she asked, not taking it.

He withdrew it, shrugging. "The way I'm going to tell this story, three minutes is definitely not long enough to win fair and square. Ergo, I must have let you win."

"A tramp who speaks Latin," Rose murmured. "I take it you won't want another game?"

Neither Scorpius nor Edgar - insults be damned - were the type to back away from a challenge. "Best of three?"

And five minutes and thirty-seven seconds later: "Best of five?"

Rose threw the remaining cards on the coffee table, laughing. "Enough! It's almost painful beating you so easily."

"No more painful than having the cushion on your lap burst into flames," Scorpius grumbled.

He leaned back on the couch, as Rose cleared away the last of the charred cardboard pieces. The top she was wearing tonight was very nice, he confirmed for himself. A dark red singlet, with spaghetti straps he could actually see for once since her hair was done up in a loose bun rather than loose around her shoulders. She must have done it especially for him, Scorpius thought, pleased, since in his experience she _always_ wore her hair down on weekends.

"So aside from balls and parties, what else has been happening in the world of Rose Weasley?"

She sat back down next to him. Was he imagining it, or had she edged closer than last time? She didn't waste any time, did she?

"Work stuff," she said quickly, with a long glance at Scorpius. "I'd go on about it, but..."

He laughd. It wasn't as though Edgar actually didn't have a job. Or that Edgar himself even existed. He supposed he'd better put up a token reluctance - but after his earlier vow he decided that counted as overthinking things.

"Don't stress. You don't need to hold your tongue around me. We're just two people getting to know each other, right?"

"Yeah," Rose said, cocking her head. "Yeah, you're right. Living in the moment."

"You were the one who came up with that in the first place."

She threw a pillow at him, grinning. "I've been a bit out of it today, I'm sorry. You can't expect me to remember things I said more than three hours ago."

"Have you ever... read a romance novel?"

"Drinking games already, Edgar? We've barely started our first glasses."

"When has that ever stopped anyone?"

She lifted her glass, and took a sip. It wasn't like they were doing Firewhiskey shots, anyway. This was just - loosening up the mood. To chase away the overthinking.

Or something. He kicked his shoes off and put his knees up against the table, feeling a warm buzz wriggle through his head. He took a sip of his punch -

Then grimaced as he realised Rose was laughing at him. "You read romance novels?" she teased.

"What?"

"You know the rules. You drank, so 'fess up."

He'd never - well. He probably had read at least one in his life. He had to confess to a certain amount of curiosity about the opposite sex - and, well, Moira had seemed such a fan...

"There's no rule about having to elaborate!"

Rose giggled, and wriggled closer to him, pillow held in her other hand. "There's also no rule about getting the information out some other way..."

"Hey!" He lifted his hands in surrender, but Rose seemed to take it as an attack - "What is this, a third-year sleepover?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ravenclaws don't sneak out for sleepovers."

He raised his eyebrows, leaning closer in turn - and then smack! The cushion hit his thigh. Cheeky. "Is that the best you can do?" he asked. "Maybe if you'd spent more time sneaking into the boys' dorms you'd have better technique."

"Are you sure it was the boys' dorms you stayed in at Hogwarts? Because you seem to have spent the whole time reading romances and having pillow fights..."

He reached over her arm and picked up his drink again. "It's your turn," he said, refusing to answer the question.

"Turn?"

"To ask a question."

She sat back, thinking. He almost started feeling relieved that she was finally relaxing - they'd gotten off to an awkward start that night, why had that been? - and then he realised he wasn't allowed to have been worried in the first place. So he took another gulp of juice.

Hang on...

"This is alcoholic, isn't it?"

She bit her lip, and he was suddenly reminded of the Rose in the white dress at the Leaky Cauldron with Knightley, chewing her lip as she realised she'd upset him.

He didn't continue that thought, except to quietly reminisce on how excellent that dress had looked from behind.

"I may or may not have spiked the punch," she admitted, eyes looking anywhere but him - then darting back, so he could see the glint of amusement behind them.

He laughed. "Wanted your alcohol fix without the trip to the pub?"

"Maybe."

"Want more?" he said suddenly.

She frowned. "That was my last bottle, so if you want any more I was serious about having to go out."

He jumped up. "No Leaky Cauldrons required," he said, pulling the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket with a flourish. "Although a non-leaking one might be helpful. I've got all we need right here."

"Hate to tell you this, but that's a decidedly non-alcoholic scrap of parchment you're holding," she said, laughing, standing up so she was at the same height as him.

"It's my secret recipe," he told her. "You do have vanilla beans in your pantry, right?"

"Of course." She went to the kitchen and he followed her, quickly consulting the rest of the instructions while she wasn't looking. He'd mixed most of the rest of the ingredients already, but if he was going to pretend it was his secret recipe, he could hardly keep looking at it every ten seconds.

It wasn't anything of the sort, of course. He'd come across the recipe while researching some of the more obscure time-related spells. And since brewing butterbeer required very precise timing of the lunar kind, the authors had seen fit to include it in their book. Hey, if it meant impressing Rose with a new skill, he was only too happy to try it out.

And if Edgar Spore came across as a homeless drunk - well, all the better for Scorpius Malfoy.

"Here you go." Rose dropped the small packet in front of him, and he quickly checked its contents. "Now, tell me what's going on..."

"Have you ever brewed your own butterbeer?"

"Fred and James probably have. It'd certainly explain a lot of things..."

"But you're not Fred or James, are you?"

She glared at him, but he knew she was only teasing. Even disciplined Rose Weasley got curious sometimes. "Hey, I can live in the moment."

"Excellent. Now, you're going to have to wait until the precise moment the sun goes down -"

"It's already gone down."

"What?" He raced to the window, hoping to see at least a glimmer of sunlight, but he couldn't see any over the city. "Damn autumn sunsets," he muttered. "Never mind! Just do it now, it'll be fine. It can't have been that long since twilight, anyway. Okay, chop the beans into halves or so, then crush them with the side of the knife - don't be too fine about it, we're in a hurry -"

"Why don't you just do it if it's so urgent?"

"Because only a witch can do it," he said quickly. "Don't worry, just chop them up however you like, it's the timing that's the main thing..."

She winked. "I see why you've taken up with me, then. You need someone to brew your butterbeer for you."

"It's either that or get a job," he joked. "But until then I have the misfortune of having to spend time in your company. It's a horrible fate, isn't it?"

Laughing, she finished crushing the beans, and held the packet out for inspection. He couldn't help noticing the way her arms accentuated her -

"Ahh - right," he said distractedly, pulling a small vial from his pocket. "The rest of the potion. I took the liberty of preparing it before I got here..."

"How am I supposed to learn how to brew butterbeer if you won't even show me all the steps?"

"You were welcome to join me at dawn to pick the lily roots."

She rolled her eyes. "I get up early enough for work every morning, I think I'm fine."

"Then stop complaining. Okay, scrape those into here."

She eyed the small vial doubtfully. "You really think that's going to be enough for two?"

"Yeah, it's fine, it'll - wait, you're right, stop! I forgot to pour the water..." He rummaged around her cupboards, remembering just in time not to go directly to the bowls, and finally pulled out a large dessert bowl from one of the bottom shelves. "The tap - warm water or cold, depends on how you like your butterbeer -"

"Cold will do," she said quickly, grabbing the bowl from him and holding it under the tap.

He hurried next to her. "Okay, pour this in," he said, holding out the vial. "Then scrape the beans into the mixing bowl."

"Seems like a bit of an odd way to brew butterbeer, but if you're sure..."

Okay, so he'd picked the 'instant' method, the one that only required two days pre- and one hour post-mixing, but that wasn't any reason to hold it against him. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead, we don't have much time!"

She dropped the last bit of vanilla into the mixture. What had been a small solid blob at the bottom of the bowl now began to expand, colouring the water a dark brown and causing the edges to bubble and swirl...

"Quick, we've got to get it outside!"

Rose grabbed the bowl and ran to the living room. "Open the balcony door, it's just Alohomora," she instructed, and he was only too happy to oblige. The mixture was bubbling furiously now, and he didn't particularly want to be remembered as the guy who spilled seven litres of mouldy water all over her living room carpet.

"Alohomora!" he cried, pointing his wand at the door. Now wasn't the time for sophisticated non-verbals. The door handle slid smoothly down under his hand, and suddenly they were outside on the balcony - but the mixture still hadn't stopped bubbling -

"Ouch!" Rose cried out, and he spun around - she was about to drop the bowl - "That stung", she said after a second, sounding out of breath. "A bit jumped up and landed on my finger."

He wasn't about to admit he'd never done this before. But he had to think quickly. "The moonlight," he said suddenly, looking up. "Your balcony has a roof -"

"It's the balcony from upstairs -"

"Whatever, it's blocking the moonlight, I think that's what it needs to complete the brewing cycle -"

They looked at each other, then raced to the emergency stairs. They were still covered, to an extent, but the stairs above them were wrought iron slats, with plenty of room for moonlight to shine through.

The mixture stilled, and Scorpius breathed a sigh of relief. That had been a complete guess on his part.

"You know," Rose said with a small voice, "perhaps it would have been easier to go to the pub..."

"But not nearly as entertaining, right?"

She laughed, taking a seat on the stairs and carefully placing the bowl next to her. "Have a seat," she told him, patting the ground on the other side, and she winced. "Guess that burn was a bit worse than I thought," she said, examining her finger in the moonlight.

"Want me to get something for it?" he offered, not sitting down. He could always pretend he knew where all her medical supplies were kept by complete coincidence...

"Nah, it's alright." She muttered a spell which seemed to cause the swelling to go down a bit - oops, he thought guiltily. He hadn't intended this to be a high-risk activity!

"It'll take about an hour," Scorpius told her, gesturing towards the now-simmering bowl. "Or maybe less, I'm not really sure."

"I thought you said you did this all the time," she teased. Which wasn't true at all - he'd said it was his secret recipe, and all that implied was that he'd never shown it to anyone, which was completely true.

Considering he'd only found it three days ago, that hadn't been too difficult.

"I've never missed the sunset before, though," he admitted, which was also completely true. "I'm not sure if it's an hour past sunset, in which case it'd be, what?"

"Forty minutes from now."

"Something like that. But maybe it's an hour from putting in the crushed seeds. Dammit, this is a lot easier if you do it properly from the beginning."

She giggled. "Hey, if you'd just admitted you couldn't play Exploding Snap from the outset, we wouldn't be in this position."

"I didn't know I was going to be up against a master!" She never played that well with Scorpius Malfoy! Yet another thing she'd kept from him, yet was quite happy to reveal to a perfect stranger...

They sat in silence for a while. It wasn't a bad silence. It was rather comfortable, actually, Scorpius realised as he stared out over Muggle London's lights. But even if tonight was about relaxing and having a good time, well -

Exploding Snap and comfortable silences reminded him a bit too much of Scorpius' time with Rose. And he hadn't come up with this ridiculous scheme to repeat the experience with an extra dose of Polyjuice.

He turned his gaze to Rose, who was staring out into the distance as well. Her top didn't look so tight outside, but the moonlight cast very interesting shadows in a way the bright lamps of her apartment had no chance of replicating.

He cleared his throat. "I wonder what they're all doing," he said, to cover the silence. "What all those lights are on for."

"Having dinner? It can't be past seven or so, can it?"

"Too early to be going out, probably."

"But some of them could be getting ready." She giggled. "Trying on five different outfits, trying to tell which of them strikes that perfect balance between sexy and I'm not a whore, unlike your slutty ex-girlfriend I saw you with three nights ago."

"Suspiciously specific..."

"Oh, shut up. It was two years ago. Just because I didn't quite strike the balance that night doesn't mean I couldn't do it now, if I wanted to."

"Oh, really?" He turned his body around properly to face her, and his knee bumped hers in the moonlight. "Please, do tell. All their dates are probably wondering how exactly to interpret these subtle signals they're trying so desperately to send -"

"What, 'I wonder if that red top means she's going to put out tonight?'"

He held up his hands. "Hey, I'm trying to be the sensitive understanding one here."

"Are you wondering about mine?" she asked suddenly, and he took a sharp breath. He hadn't come here for that - but that didn't mean he was going to turn down whatever she was offering...

"I wouldn't dream of asking," he said, but his eyes begged to differ. She smiled and leaned closer, and his heart started beating faster and faster. Was she going to kiss him?

And then she looked down at the bowl between them. "Rather inconveniently placed, don't you think?" she whispered, moving it to the step above. "I wonder how long we have to babysit this?"

He started to answer, but she tipped a finger into the liquid - it must have cooled by now, he thought distractedly, but he couldn't seem to hold onto that thought when she placed her finger in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it as she contemplated the potion.

"Rose," he whispered, only he wasn't sure it was a whisper and not a groan.

"I think it's getting there," she announced, grinning. Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Dammit, where had Rose learnt to be so goddamn sexy?

And suddenly he was terrified. Scorpius - heck, even Edgar and Knightley - was thrilled at the merest brush against her knee. He'd always assumed Rose was about as experienced as he was - but maybe she wasn't, and maybe the only reason she was so interested in Edgar and Knightley was that she assumed they'd be able to meet her expectations -

But the look on her face on the ballroom floor last night told him otherwise. She liked him, Scorpius. And the look of terror had told him she was just as nervous about their relationship as he was.

So why was she here with Edgar? Why was she outside, in the moonlight, flirting - more than that - with a man who wasn't Scorpius?

He took a breath. He was overthinking things, again, and he'd come here to avoid that, dammit. Maybe she was doing the same thing he was. Practising.

The thought reassured him, but only because he decided not to think it all the way through. He was here, after all, in said moonlight and being flirted with by a beautiful woman. One he'd been in - one he'd liked for years, he thought quickly. And she seemed perfectly willing to go further than the bounds of friendship...

"What's wrong?" she asked, and he realised he'd turned away from her.

"Nothing," he said quickly, and the smile on her face - one that looked like it was aimed at Scorpius, not Edgar - calmed him down. "Absolutely nothing," he repeated, and he realised it was true. "I was just thinking of how lucky I am to be here."

She laughed, and her smile turned flirtatious again. "Are you going to sit there, or are you going to do something about it?"

"Shut up and come over here," he told her, and when she obliged he pulled her into a hug, one he probably would have given her as himself. Somehow it reminded him that underneath all the disguises he was still _Scorpius_, and this might be the only chance he had with Rose -

Dammit. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, and he swiftly shoved the thought to the back of his mind. She tasted like butterbeer, the flavour more intense on her lips than whatever the Leaky Cauldron sold. They were at an awkward angle, despite the free space between them, and he pulled her towards him to close the gap.

She withdrew for a second, but only to adjust her position, and then she was back, her lips brushing against his in a series of feather-light kisses until he groaned and kissed her properly, deeply. It wasn't enough, but he was painfully aware that they were outside, they were on the emergency stairs for Pete's sake, and they probably shouldn't even be going this far.

But there was no way he was stopping, not when he finally had her in his arms, the prospect of the rest of the night stretching ahead of them with no Freds to interrupt them...

He tried to pull her closer, but it was impossible. Her body was already flush against his, at least as much as it could be given their awkward angle, and he could feel every soft curve against his chest. Dammit, he needed more -

He wrenched himself away from her, and she used the opportunity to kiss his neck - starting at the corner of his mouth, down the side of his cheek, across his jaw... Her breath tickled his ear as she passed it, and he smiled and let her continue. He sighed as she reached the side of his neck, as her soft kisses teased his skin, taking the edge off for a brief moment.

"We're on the emergency stairs," he said suddenly. "We - we can't -"

She kissed his lips, the briefest of pecks, and he smiled up at her as she stood up. She paused, then moved the butterbeer bowl over to the corner of the balcony. It wasn't on the stairs, but it was still within reach of the moonlight.

She held out her hand to him. "Then why don't you come inside?"


	9. The Armed Clipboard

**Disclaimer: etc**

**A/N: So I meant to update this Saturday night, but I managed to stuff up my internet access and only just managed to get it working on something bigger than a mobile phone. Never fear, I've been working on the next (last) chapter in the mean time and have promised a certain someone it'll be done by Christmas :)**

* * *

><p>Scorpius had never felt more contented. He stretched out his legs, allowing himself to smile as his knee touched something soft. Rose's leg, wound up between his.<p>

He wanted to savour the sensation, but he opened his eyes anyway. Sunlight streamed through her living room window, and he frowned. Was it that late already? He'd been hoping for -

Six fifty! His eyes fell on the clock on the kitchen table in dismay. It was Monday, he reminded himself. A work day. He couldn't stay here, much as he wanted to.

He half sat up, smiling down at Rose's sleeping form as she stirred next to him.

He, Scorpius Malfoy, was waking up. With Rose Weasley. On her couch.

Except that he wasn't Scorpius Malfoy. His mouth curled up at the realisation, but he didn't care. Last night had been -

Except that he was Scorpius Malfoy.

He stared suddenly back at the mirror, hoping he was imagining things - but of course he wasn't. Polyjuice Potion barely lasted an hour. His flask, dammit, where was his flask, he couldn't let Rose find out like this -

With a glance at Rose, he carefully reached for his jeans pocket, lying next to the coffee table beside him. He'd been taking sips from the flask all night, to keep it up, but he hadn't counted on falling asleep...

He ripped the lid open and took a sip, but nothing came out. Dammit, the flask was empty. He'd finished it sometime in the night, obviously, but the observation didn't help his mood.

The lethargy that had been slowing his mind suddenly lifted. He had another flask somewhere, didn't he? He'd prepared it specially, knowing that he'd be spending a whole evening at Rose's place...

A memory of the night before flashed before him. The kitchen counter. He'd grabbed one vial, certainly. The vial they'd used to make the butterbeer. He winced at the memory, and his head decided to take that moment to start pounding like a door-knocker. Merlin, maybe there was something to be said for following the recipe to the letter. That stuff had been strong...

But he had bigger problems right now. Without the extra supply of Polyjuice Potion, he was stuck as Scorpius Malfoy. And he had no idea what she was going to say when her alarm clock ticked over to seven a.m., and Rose Weasley woke up to find Scorpius Malfoy's legs entwined with hers.

She was still asleep as he eased himself out, holding his breath. He stumbled over his jeans - dammit, he'd known they were there, how could he have been so stupid? - but she didn't open her eyes, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He picked up his jeans, but he couldn't find his shirt. It didn't matter. His coat was outside in the hall. He could wear that home.

He thanked whatever gods were watching over him for Apparation - and cursed whoever'd invented Anti-Apparation charms for houses. He just had to get outside. To the front door. And then he was free.

Six fifty-eight, the clock read in harsh red numbers. Two minutes. He walked around the table and through the door, with a last glance at Rose - still asleep - and the clock - six fifty-nine. It had ticked over while he'd been making his escape.

He half-crept, half-sprinted through the living room, grabbing his coat from the hook, and looked out the small window next to the door. He stopped with a start - he couldn't go out there in just his underwear! He struggled into the jeans, wrapping his coat around him without actually putting it on - there, that would do -

He opened the door just as the alarm rang out, shrill from Rose's bedroom.

He closed it behind him just as her voice called out sleepily for Edgar.

And then he Apparated from her door, wondering what the hell he'd just done.

* * *

><p>He decided to forgo breakfast in favour of a shower. A long one, a cold one, because for one thing there was no way he was going to wait for the heating to kick in, and for another –<p>

What the hell had he just done?

He stripped off his coat roughly, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans. A rip, and something small and dark rolled under the counter, but he hardly noticed.

The _hell_ –

His head pounded, and he pushed the shower door open with one hand, holding his head in the other. Blindly, he turned the tap, and cold water spurted out in bursts. He stood there, letting it pour over him, vaguely aware that it was freezing, that there were goosebumps all down his arms.

Rose. He'd – he had no idea what he'd done with Rose. He'd woken up next to her in his underwear. He'd crept out past the kitchen and seen the empty bowl of butterbeer, tipped over on its side in Rose's sink.

He grabbed a bar of soap, suddenly angry.

He'd had what should have been the most wonderful night of his life.

And he didn't remember it.

* * *

><p>Scorpius stepped out of the elevator, ignoring Jones and Edison as they brushed past him.<p>

"Bloke's insane, it's too soon," Edison muttered, but for once Scorpius wasn't worrying about work. If that was what they were talking about.

The elevator doors cluttered shut behind him as he started down the corridor. He wanted to talk to Finch, but he didn't, and he didn't even remember what had happened so what was he supposed to say to him, anyway?

Well, Finch could probably help him out with that one, he thought, smiling despite himself. He'd probably been in that situation more times than –

"What's got you so happy today?

He looked up, startled. Finch slipped out of a doorway to his side, an old man Scorpius didn't recognise following closely behind.

This wasn't...?

Shit.

Merlin, he didn't even remember his name, he'd thought he had time – now he was screwed, this was awful, he'd ruined his one chance to impress the man –

Finch laughed. "Scorpius Malfoy," he said with a grin, "may I introduce you to Mr Samuel Davies. That's your cue to sag in relief, by the way."

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, and hoping desperately his companions didn't notice, Scorpius reached out to shake the other man's hand. "I haven't seen you around here before, sir," he said cautiously. Just because he wasn't Flint didn't mean he wasn't one of his men...

The old man threw back his head with laughter. Scorpius, unable to look him in the eye, fixated instead on the way the movement tickled the air around his beard. It was a remarkably full one, even if it wasn't long.

"I think I'm going to like this boy," Davies said conversationally to Finch. "He'll make an excellent minion, don't you think?"

Finch coughed. "Uh..."

"Thought you said he was a Timer?"

"Not for long," Scorpius said morosely.

The old man winced. "Haven't passed the Flint test yet, have you?"

"I'm sure you will," Finch said bracingly. Scorpius wanted to punch him.

"And I suppose you have?"

He at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Just this morning."

"Flint is here?"

All the relief he'd felt at hearing Samuel Davies' name fled. Finch nodded, waving his hand vaguely towards his nametag. A small black label had been appended to the bottom.

_Re-Employed_, read the label in large green letters.

Impossible to miss – unless your thoughts were otherwise occupied.

But Merlin, there were more immediate problems than what had happened with Rose!

He strode down the hall and reached the door to the Time chamber, grabbed his nametag from the box at the door –

_Scorpius Malfoy_, read the first line, as it always had. But in place of the second line, the one that had always simply read _Time_, next to an unexplained two pips, there was a new message, flashing bright yellow against red.

_Status: Indeterminate._

And no pips.

He heard Finch's footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn around. "It's today, isn't it?" he said flatly.

"Almost certainly." Scorpius was glad he didn't elaborate, didn't add anything about how he was sure it'd all be fine, that he had nothing to worry about.

"Almost?"

Finch drew up beside him, placing his hand on the doorknob. "He has a list. A clipboard. He's going through it one by one, in private interviews." He jerked his head towards Davies. "It's how I met him."

"You didn't know him before? I thought I didn't recognise him."

"We were waiting together. Think he'd just had his, he was giving me advice. Listen, Scorp –"

"I get it. I'll start packing my desk up now."

He reached for the door handle, but Finch's hand still lay over it. "No, I'm serious. Play up the stuff you have done. I've seen you, it's not like you've been sitting around playing marbles for the last three years. Flint's not a rules man, he's a money man."

"I haven't finished a project that was meant to take six months. Even I can admit that's not a great track record."

Finch waved his hand. "He's a money man, which means he's a spin man. You've just got to work out how to tell the story in a way he'll –"

"You mean lie."

"Scorp –" Finch let go of the doorknob and grabbed his shoulders. "Scorpius Malfoy, this is your job, this is your life, this is your last chance to save it. I'm your friend, dammit, I'm not going to let you just throw it away!"

This was useless, there was no chance that status on his badge was going to change to Re-Employed, he shouldn't get his hopes up, but this was – this could – Rose –

"Okay," he said, before he could stop himself. He ran his free hand through his hair, self-conscious all of a sudden. Everything seemed to hinge on this one moment. Maybe he wouldn't lose Rose after all.

"Okay," he repeated, before he did start getting his hopes up with stupid fantasies. "But you've got to help me."

Finch's face lit up, and the shoulder grab miraculously transformed into a sort of hug – or awkward pat on the shoulder, anyway. "I've got some stuff I've got to sort out with Davies. Give me half an hour."

"And if he calls me before then?"

"He won't. And if he does, well, just don't mention your trainee stuff. Just, I dunno, say you decided to focus on something that'd increase the profits of the department. Then shut the hell up about it and talk about something else."

Davies coughed behind them. "You ready, then?"

Finch nodded, and the two of them set off towards the elevator.

"Finch?" Scorpius called out on a whim.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be late."

* * *

><p>Every set of footsteps made him jump.<p>

_Could you explain what you do here, Mr Malfoy?_

He couldn't do what Finch had told him to do. Papers lay strewn over his desk, and every now and then he'd reach out for another, bring it to the front, and stare at it just as intently – and blankly – as the last.

_Certainly, sir. I worked on the latest Philosophy of Time project with Mr Jones and –_

Philosophy of Time? He couldn't have picked a worse example to prove he was increasing the department's revenue. Finch would have had him eating out of his hand by now. One grin, approximately three sentences and he'd probably be promoted to Minister for fricking Magic.

Every time he tried to imagine the conversation it sounded worse.

_Really? Then explain why your name wasn't on the paper they submitted, Mr Malfoy._

_I'm a trainee, sir, I wasn't officially assigned to the project –_

_Then you can't have done very much at all, you lazy slacker! You're fired!_

Scorpius jumped. Even Flint's imaginary voice was enough to make him quake in his boots. He checked his badge compulsively, but the sight of the yellow text did nothing to calm his nerves.

More footsteps.

"You're working yourself into a state, I see."

Scorpius' shoulders sagged in relief. Finch. He looked at the clock above his bench. "You're late."

"Five minutes, man, give me a break. It's chaos in the Brain Room."

Scorpius turned to face Finch, frowning. "Thought it was only Time that was getting the overhaul."

"At the moment." Finch shrugged, then leaned closer. "Between you and me, I'm starting to get the impression Bletchley didn't resign voluntarily, if you know what I mean."

"The powers that be have decided to play with more of us mortals, then," Scorpius murmured.

Finch laughed. "Means Flint is just a puppet. I reckon it's a good thing."

Personally, Scorpius didn't see how it changed anything. Puppets could do just as much damage as the real thing. Especially if the puppet-masters decided to mess with the rest of the Department of Mysteries, as well. But he didn't comment. Finch was here for a reason, and it wasn't to gossip about the chaos in the Brain Room.

Finch leaned over, knocking over a jar of quills as he did so. Scorpius discreetly moved his ink bottle out of his reach.

"These the projects you were going to mention?"

Scorpius was amazed he could make any sense of the mess of parchment on his desk. He nodded jerkily. "Yes. Maybe. I mean, I'm going through all of it. Figure I'll have to at some point."

"You're not fired yet," Finch muttered. "Definitely not this philosophy crap, you'll be crucified. What about this one?"

He held out a dog-eared notebook.

"I don't even remember what that is."

"Replenishing the Time Turner supply cupboard."

"That was three years ago. And a monkey could have done that."

Finch laughed. "What do you think they hire trainees for?"

Scorpius grabbed the notebook from Finch, and picked up another one from the desk. "I was thinking maybe I could talk about this one? It's just some notes I took for Ackerley at the start of the year. About Pensieves."

"You really shouldn't be telling me all this."

Scorpius snorted. "Please. The cleaning lady probably knows more about the projects than I do."

"This is the Department of Mysteries. We don't have cleaning ladies." Finch eyed the clutter on Scorpius' desk. "Although maybe we should."

"Should I mention it or not?"

Finch shrugged, taking the notebook from Scorpius' hands. He flicked through it, sighing. "To be honest I think you're overthinking this. All you've got to do is tell him what you've done. Be honest. Just skim over stuff that didn't make any money."

"I'm not sure I agree that the department head should care this much about money."

"If you don't go along with it you won't have much say in the matter, so I suggest sticking with my plan."

"Yeah, because I've got so much say in my current position..."

They were interrupted by yet another set of footsteps. Two, actually, although one set consisted of more stomping than stepping.

"Parker, be reasonable -"

Scorpius couldn't help but turn to watch the spectacle, and Finch whistled softly.

"He's going to pay for this, damn him!"

The woman hurried after him, her voice pleading as she ran. "Parker, be reasonable, it's just a job."

"Don't tell me to be bloody reasonable! I suppose you're on his side now that he's decided he wants you -"

"Don't be ridiculous! Just because I didn't call him a bloody motherf- " She cut off, glaring at Finch and Scorpius. "Didn't make it," she whispered to them, as Parker banged his way through the door to the chamber.

"We noticed," Finch said drily, and she rolled her eyes and ran after him. "Case in point," Finch noted to Scorpius. "I told you it was all about spin. You've just got to go in there, show you've made a bit of money - even that Time-Turner stuff is enough, it's not like they expect Time to rake in the profits - and for pity's sake suck up to him? It's not that hard -"

"For you, maybe."

"For you, too." Suddenly Finch narrowed his eyes at him, and dragged an empty stool over to the bench. "You've shown quite well over the last few weeks that you're quite capable of lying when it suits you."

"I'm -"

"I'm talking about Rose."

Scorpius looked away. "Obviously."

Wait.

Over the last few weeks? As in - recently? As in Edgar Spore? "How did you know?" he asked, more casually than he felt.

"About what?"

"I never told you I was still doing it."

"But you are, aren't you? You still haven't stopped. Have you told her yet?"

Scorpius looked back at him. "Obviously not," he said flatly. "You wouldn't have if it were you, either."

"I wouldn't have gotten into such a ridiculous situation in the first place."

"It wasn't ridiculous! I'm not you, I can't just waltz up and chat her up, just like I can't just waltz up and lie to my boss -"

"Merlin's pants, Scorp, it's not lying! Say whatever you want, just don't call him a moron to his face."

Reluctantly, he felt a smile creep over his face. He looked around quickly. "Can I whisper it to someone else?"

"If you're sure of their loyalties first," Finch whispered back with a grin.

Scorpius straightened. "Better not say anything to you just yet, then."

"Whatever. We're going to tidy up this desk of yours, by the way. There's no point spending half an hour convincing Flint how organised and productive you are if he's just going to come back and see this pigsty."

"I take offence to that."

"I should bloody well hope so!"

They worked in silence for a while, Scorpius haphazardly and Finch more methodically. It was the opposite of their usual working styles, and Scorpius had to conceal a grin when he accidentally knocked a roll of parchment to the ground. He climbed down to pick it up, grinning at Finch as he came back up again. "I'm turning into you."

Finch stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "Excellent. You're ready to joke again. Which means you and me are going to have a talk about a certain mutual acquaintance of ours."

This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? What he'd sought out Finch for in the first place, before this stupid mess with Flint had come to a head?

But it hadn't, yet, and Scorpius didn't feel remotely confident they had a case.

"This is hardly the place, Finch," was all he said, trying to concentrate on the title of the paper in front of him. _The Magical Manipulations Of Matter In_ -

"Rubbish. It's perfect. You're trapped." He swivelled on his stool to face Scorpius. "Now. Tell me where you've been all weekend."

Scorpius opened his mouth to reply - then closed it as he remembered everything that had happened since Saturday. Had the Malfoy dinner really only been two nights ago?

"You saw me Saturday night," he said finally. "Came into the office Sunday morning and created this mess, and the rest is history."

"And you didn't see Rose at all, is that right, Scorpius?"

He didn't answer.

Finch grinned. "Okay, wrong question. Of course Scorpius Malfoy didn't see Rose Weasley this weekend. That true for Edgar Spore, as well?"

"I slept with her last night."

Silence.

For once even Finch couldn't summon up any response. The general chatter in the lab didn't subside, but to Scorpius there was utter silence in their little corner of the room as he watched his best friend consider his bombshell.

"As Spore."

Scorpius couldn't look at Finch. "Yes."

"Have you told her?"

Of course not. "No."

"Dammit, Scorp -"

He wanted to argue, wanted to defend himself, but suddenly he just didn't have the energy. "I can't, okay? I can't have her as Scorpius -"

"Maybe if you asked!"

"She likes Spore," Scorpius said flatly. "She likes Spore, and she's happy to... be with him, and right now that's all I want."

"This wasn't what you wanted when you started."

He put the paper he was holding back onto the desk. "I just want to enjoy this while I can, okay?"

Finch didn't say anything for a while. He stared down at the notebook in his hands, but Scorpius could tell his eyes weren't moving. "Are you ever going to tell her?"

"I'm not going to see her again."

When had he decided that?

Finch smirked, finally looking up at him. "That bad, was she?"

"Shut up, you bastard."

"What happened?"

"You're going to hate me for this." Scorpius took a breath. "I don't remember."

And Harry Finch-Fletchley* burst out laughing. "You're serious? You finally got the one thing you've wanted since, what, third year? And you don't even frigging remember it?"

"You don't think I've already beaten myself up over this?"

Neither of them noticed the footsteps approaching their corner. Until the shadow passed over Scorpius' desk, and disappeared.

Finch looked up, suddenly aware of their surroundings again. "Flint," he muttered. "Don't look now."

So Scorpius looked, of course, and though the man's head was turned away from him he would have sworn he saw a smirk cross his lips as Scorpius stared at his back. He told himself he was being ridiculous, but it didn't stop the shiver that ran up his spine at the sight of the man who was about to ruin his life.

And his clipboard.

He was overreacting. The memory of the woman who'd run through before flashed into his mind. Bianca something-or-other, and she was right - it was just a job, and there'd be other jobs, and so what if none of them were as perfect as this one was? So what if he'd completely lose the respect of the girl he'd been pining after for years? So what if -

"You're getting wound up again," Finch whispered in his ear, and Scorpius jumped, feeling flustered.

"He's going to come here soon, isn't he?"

Finch shrugged. "Far as anyone can tell the order's totally random. You could be next, you could be next week -"

"Let's plan for sometime today, shall we?" Putting things off hadn't done him any good in the last three weeks - or three years.

"Tell you what," Finch told him, glancing at the clock. "It's just on twelve now. Why don't we go out for lunch, talk about nothing -"

"All talk of Rose and work forbidden?"

"You're no fun at all."

Scorpius straightened. "What if my name comes up next?"

"You can tell him lunch is an essential part of the productive workman's day. Merlin, Scorp, he might be a reformer but he's not about to let you starve."

"You sure about that?" Scorpius glared at Flint's dark hair. He could definitely see the man as a modern-day slave driver. Flint's reply, though, was interrupted by the beginning of the bell-ringing.

Lunch was uneventful, and the hours following it contained some of the most tense moments of Scorpius Malfoy's life.

Every footstep was a stomp, every click of a pen was the snap of that damned clipboard. Finally a single clock chimed four, and Finch announced that he really had to go.

"We've done everything we can, mate. It's all up to you now."

"You're leaving?" Scorpius asked as Finch eased off his stool.

They'd worked mostly in silence after lunch. It hadn't seemed right to talk. The cafe upstairs had been one thing, but the mood in the office that afternoon had been sombre. The effects of the morning's culling, as Finch had put it, had begun to show.

The two desks closest to the trainee corner had been cleared out. Nearly a quarter of the cubicles in the chamber itself were now empty, and the visual impact of it left a far more powerful impression than the abstract warnings they'd had in the last few days.

"Hell of a recruitment job they've got ahead of them," one man had said, leaning over Scorpius' desk halfway through the afternoon. Tucked away as it was at the back of the room, though still open enough that the 'powers that be' wouldn't suspect conspiracy, the trainee corner had become a bit of a gathering point through the day.

Mike Edison snorted. "Depends if they want them back, doesn't it? Heard he fired them because they weren't doing anything 'constructive', he's hardly likely to want to replace them, is he?"

"Still, it's a big cut to the team," another woman said worriedly, peaking her head around a large jar, and most of the group nodded.

"Budget cuts," someone muttered, before a cough had alerted them to Flint's arrival.

Now, Scorpius looked around at the near-empty chamber. It all felt so _sudden_, dammit! He'd left work on Friday thinking maybe he'd have to put a bit more effort in - and now on Monday afternoon the entire office could talk of nothing else but Flint's overhaul.

"He couldn't have given us two weeks probation?" Scorpius muttered as Finch gathered up his things. "At least this way we know, I suppose."

Finch smiled slightly. "Just remember, you're not fired yet."

"Yet." Scorpius glanced at the small pile of papers they'd reduced his desk to. He couldn't help thinking he was glad Finch had come over - not for his help with his case, but for his help cleaning out his desk.

This morning he'd been full of hopeful optimism, when Finch had first suggested all was not lost.

Now?

The list of papers on his desk looked pitifully small, the numbers in the Galleons Saved or Earned column even smaller.

Finch patted him on the back, probably more sharply than he'd intended - then turned to face him, his eyes suddenly serious. "Look, Scorp, this is enough to show you've done something. Don't overthink it, just remember what we talked about. You haven't been wasting your time here."

He closed his eyes, and Scorpius got the feeling he had something more to say. He waited.

"But you've got to do something about your trainee project." He opened his eyes and looked straight at Scorpius. "He's impatient. He's going to want to close it off as part of his reforms. Just give him something, okay? It doesn't matter what it is. I can't help you, Scorp, I don't know your project, but dammit, you've got to show something!

Scorpius nodded. "I really appreciate your help today," he said honestly. Even if he wasn't sure it'd be worth it.

Because it all came down to him stopping Time.

He sighed, turning back to the pile of notebooks and papers in front of him. He resisted the urge to shuffle through them, sort them again in some other order -

"Malfoy, hmm?"

He could only stare blankly at the man looming over him. He was bulkier than he'd looked from further away, and Scorpius suddenly wondered how he'd ended up with a desk job. Maybe he hadn't wanted it, and that was why he was taking it out on all the rest of them.

He tried to smile, but he felt like a corpse. One of those skulls you saw in the brain room with all their teeth, their mouths stretched back to halfway up their faces. So he stopped, and Flint tapped his clipboard impatiently.

"Looks like I won't be seeing you today," he said conversationally. "Pity. I was rather looking forward to your interview. Knew your dad at school - played Quidditch with my brother. Gotta love the old Slytherin ties, don't you?"

Scorpius decided it was probably prudent not to mention he'd been in Ravenclaw.

"Gonna say something for yourself?" Flint demanded, but Scorpius' mouth suddenly felt dry, and he couldn't have said a word to save his life.

So he smiled again, tapping inanely on one of his workbooks. Merlin, Flint was going to think he'd escaped from Mungo's...

"Might as well get home early." Flint waved the clipboard around, and Scorpius had to duck discreetly to avoid a direct hit. He had a feeling it hadn't been entirely accidental, either. "Looks like you're first up tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Scorpius managed.

Flint looked down at his notes, more carefully this time, and Scorpius' heart sank as his lips curled into a smile. "I look forward to watching a live demonstration of the results of your little project, Mr Malfoy..."

* * *

><p><em>"I'm not going to see her again."<em>

Scorpius heard the words, echoing in his head as clearly as they had when he'd first spat them out at Finch that morning.

So why was he standing in front of her door, only three hours later, his hand poised to knock and his brain asking him what the hell he was doing?

He wondered if she knew he was there again. If she was sitting inside, waiting for him to pluck up the courage to actually knock. Or if she'd gone to bed, or gone out, or she didn't want to see him -

And it'd be perfectly reasonable if she didn't, wouldn't it?

He sighed, and knocked quickly before he could stop himself. He knew he should be at home, knew he should be making the most of the few hours he had left to come up with something to show Flint.

But he couldn't leave Rose hanging.

So here he was.

The door opened. "Edgar!" Rose exclaimed, smiling widely, but she didn't move to embrace him.

Which, again, made sense. It wasn't as though they had the kind of relationship where they could hug each other.

Although Scorpius could do with a little physical comforting right now.

"I have to apologise," he said stiffly, still standing on the doorstep.

She gestured for him to come in, her smile no longer quite so wide. "For what?"

"Last night. I took advantage of you."

"Took advantage -?" Rose gave him an incredulous look. "What is this, the nineteenth century? And how do you even remember what happened? You were pissed out of your mind!"

He scowled. "You know exactly how to cheer a man up, don't you?"

"Apology accepted, however unnecessary. Personally I think it's more likely that I took advantage of you..."

He smiled at her teasing, but for once it did nothing to ease the mood he was in. "Can we talk on the balcony?" he asked abruptly, and she narrowed her eyes at him, considering.

Then she nodded, and they walked through her living room to the balcony door. He didn't look at the couch.

It was funny. Just this morning he'd been thinking the Malfoy dinner party had seemed ages ago. Now the memory of waking up with Rose gave him the same feeling.

They stood in silence for a while, him leaning against the balcony, her sitting on one of the chairs.

"Is something wrong?" Rose asked finally.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "You guessed."

"A monkey could've!"

"You're much prettier than a monkey," he said impulsively, and her cheeks flushed pink in the lamplight.

"Work?" she asked, though, instead of replying.

Yes. Not that unemployed Edgar Spore could admit that.

Although Scorpius Malfoy had been thinking he and Edgar had rather a lot in common at the moment.

"I'm useless. Bloody useless." The words tumbled out before he could stop them, thrown out over the balcony because he knew he couldn't say them to Rose's face. "Isn't everyone supposed to be successful?"

"There are a lot of different definitions of success -"

"Most of which require a job, I think you'll find."

"You don't need money to spend time doing things that fascinate you. That inspire you."

"And where do you think most people get that intellectual stimulation from? You don't get much pissing around at home, that's for sure."

"So get a job -" Rose cut off, flushing red all over her face. "I'm sorry."

"I never realised how much I need it before I..." There wasn't really a way he could explain losing his job when he wasn't supposed to have one in the first place.

"Needed what?"

"That stimulation. The excitement, the tedium, the coworkers -" He flung a hand out over the balcony.

"It's not just that, is it?" He looked back at Rose, and was shocked to see her wringing her hands in her lap. The sight was so incongruent with his vision of Rose that he nearly laughed out loud. "I've never come close to losing - to being unemployed. I don't know how I could live without the stability of it."

He turned back to face the horizon. "I always thought I'd support a family one day."

It was a Scorpius thing to say. Edgar wouldn't dream of saying it, and he was skirting close to dangerous territory, but he didn't care. He had to be Edgar tonight, had to sort this out, but dammit he wasn't going to let a fragment of his imagination get in the way of a conversation with his best friend!

He tried to imagine a future with Rose - but all he could see was her walking through the front door, Galleons streaming from her hands, while he slunk in through the window and told her he'd lost another job.

He was open-minded, dammit, but he wasn't going to sit around while his wife paid for the meals on his table...

"A big one?" Rose asked behind him, and he smiled a little at that. Of course that would be the question she'd ask.

"Big enough."

He remembered Flint and his clipboard and decided on three. One for every house except Slytherin. His mother would kill him.

He leaned over the railing, contemplating the view below. Rose lived on the third floor. A pretty big bump if you fell.

He leaned further, and closed his eyes.

He should go home, he thought suddenly. He'd come here to apologise and he'd done it. There was no other reason to stay. It wasn't like he planned a repeat of the night before.

She hadn't confirmed or denied anything about last night. They were acting like it hadn't happened, and he didn't know whether to be glad or not.

He wished it hadn't.

Not as Spore, anyway. The familiar ache in his stomach clenched up again - was he going to spend the rest of his life with a fist in his gut? He leaned over even further, his body bent over the railing, willing the cold metal bar to push it out, push it away -

"Scorpius, no!"


	10. The Spinning Circle

**Disclaimer: as always.**

**A/N: So this was not quite out by Christmas. We'll just pretend Boxing Day is the same thing. And ignore the fact that where I am technically it's the day after Boxing Day. Those facts are all irrelevant, and you should forget them and mindlessly enjoy this chapter :)**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited this story as I've written it. This is the first extended story I've ever finished, and you're the only reason I've managed to do it. You have no idea how much I appreciate it! :D**

**One final note to anyone reading this in the future: I didn't ask for reviews during this story because I was more concerned with finishing it than actually improving my writing, but over the past few months I've found myself wanting to take my writing more seriously. So if you have any comments, criticism or suggestions (broad or specific) please, feel free to leave them (although I'd be lying if I said nice comments weren't appreciated too)!**

* * *

><p>Scorpius didn't spin to face her. He didn't gasp, he didn't sigh. He didn't turn around and fix her with a piercing stare, or Apparate away with a swish of his cloak.<p>

Instead, he looked down, and said nothing. His knuckles were white where he clenched the railing. The ground three storeys below looked impossibly far away, his entire focus on his hands in front of him.

It was over.

Rose was silent behind him, but he could hear her voice over and over in his head.

_"Scorpius, no -"_

She knew.

He wanted to ask how, but it was obvious, wasn't it?

_"...wait, Rose," he said, pressing something into her hands. "See you around, okay...?"_

No, earlier than that.

_...laughing, he pulled her closer, and whispered something in her ear that made her throw back her head with laughter..._

"Finch."

Rose didn't move, so he finally turned around. The moon was almost full, and he could see that her face was as white as his knuckles. "Edgar – Scorpius – I'm sorry -"

"Sorry?" He laughed, then stopped abruptly. "And since we both know I'm not Edgar Spore you might as well call me Scorpius."

She let out a giggle, obviously unintentional. "Not when you look like that."

He looked down at himself. "Like a lumberjack?" he asked drily.

"Scorpius," she started to say, but she broke off ruefully. "I'm sorry, I can't call you that."

"It didn't stop you before," he said quietly, and suddenly the uneasy cameraderie between them disappeared. "Why did you say it?"

"God, Scorp, I didn't mean to!"

"Were you ever going to admit you knew?"

He knew as soon as he threw the words out that it was a mistake. He had no right to make that accusation, no right at all -

"You - how the hell am I suddenly in the wrong? You're the one who's been pretending to be a - a bloody lumberjack, for Pete's sake, and why? Because you're -"

She cut off suddenly, her eyes daring him to make her continue.

"Rose, I'm sorry..." He took a step towards her, but she stepped back sharply, and he didn't follow. "That was completely uncalled for."

She looked away. Somewhere in the distance a bell chimed the hour.

"Should I explain? Or has Finch told you everything already?"

He must have sounded bitter. He was trying desperately not to, but it was hard. He'd just had possibly the worst day of his life. Some of that had to have slipped through into his voice.

"I told you, Finch and I are just -"

"Friends, I know." Scorpius slumped back onto the railing, his righteous anger disappearing. Rose was right. He was acting like he was the victim here, like she was totally at fault - and what had she done? Gone along with his stupid little plan, humouring him with Finch -

Merlin, what a day for emotions! His stomach clenched again, and he looked away, unable to face Rose after everything had happened. She must have noticed every little slip. Had she laughed, every time he -

"Scorpius, listen to me," she said quietly, and he realised that she'd moved to stand next to him. "I know what you're thinking, and it's rubbish, quite frankly."

He snorted.

"You're forgetting I'm your best friend, aren't you? I'd _never_ laugh at you, Scorpius. I can see the look on your face. Finch had absolutely nothing to do with it."

"He gave you my notes."

She smiled, and he waited for her to tell him about the time at the Leaky Cauldron. "And very thorough notes they were, too."

"That's how you found out, I suppose."

"About Spore, yes. I knew from the beginning" She looked straight at him. "I didn't know about Knightley until Finch told me."

"And yet you say Finch had nothing to do with this."

She threw up her hands in a huff of frustration. "Merlin, Scorpius, are you dense? Finch has been trying to stop this charade since probably before it even started. We didn't sit there plotting ways to humiliate you. We're your friends!"

"You encouraged Edgar. You didn't have to do that."

She looked down at her hands. "I had my own reasons."

His heartbeat quickened. He remembered her face at the bookshop, admitting she was afraid of - well, exactly this, probably. And her face at the Malfoy ball, running away from their dance as soon as it had ended.

He opened his mouth to ask - but the familiar twisting feeling struck, and this time he didn't immediately reach for his 'water' bottle. He let the transformation take place, until he stood before her as Scorpius Malfoy, Edgar Spore's clothes hanging loosely on his thinner shoulders.

They looked at each other.

"That was quick," she said after a moment. "How long have you been here?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't sure if I should come tonight. I wandered around the block for a bit."

"Do you regret it?"

He laughed uncomfortably. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to regret."

"We didn't do anything -"

"Please, Rose. I might not remember how it ended, but I certainly remember how it _started_!"

She didn't look at him. "You know what I mean."

He watched her face, her hair tinged red in the light from the lamp. Edgar Spore might have been unemployed, but he was at heart a sane man. And what sane man, gentlemanly or not, would give up the chance to - "Why not?" he asked suddenly.

"I stopped."

Because she hadn't wanted to sleep with Edgar Spore when she really wanted Scorpius Malfoy?

For the first time since she'd shouted out, he felt a sliver of hope rise out of the mess that was his stomach.

"Don't give me that look! You've been in such a bizarre mood these last few days. I know it's something to do with work, but you and Finch won't tell me anything -"

"We work in the Department of Mysteries, for Pete's sake, we can't just go blurting out secrets -"

"I know, Scorp, but you could tell me what's wrong without telling me about your research." She laid her hand on his arm, and he was suddenly tempted to place his hand over hers. "I know why you've been visiting me these last few days. Scorpius has been avoiding me, but Edgar's come to see me nearly every day."

He winced at her perceptiveness. "I haven't been avoiding you."

"When was the last time you saw me?"

"At my parents' dinner. And if we're going to talk about avoiding people, you didn't seem so eager for my company after we danced." She made to withdraw her hand, but he didn't let her. "I'm not the only one who's afraid of getting involved."

"I'm not afraid!"

"That's not what you said in Flourish and Blotts."

She wasn't looking at him, but he could see her cheeks flush darkly. "I - I didn't say that to you."

He looked at her curiously. "What's the difference?" he asked. "You knew I was Scorpius all along. How come you could say all that stuff to Edgar, but you've never been able to say it to me?"

And the unspoken question - how could you kiss Edgar Spore so easily, and never so much as flirt with Scorpius Malfoy?

"It's different, okay?"

He took a step towards her, and suddenly they seemed too close even for him. Their bodies weren't quite touching, but he could feel the anticipation sizzling between them.

"Scorpius -"

"Could you kiss me?"

She didn't say yes, but she didn't move away, either. She simply stared at him, waiting for him to -

He kissed her. Scorpius Malfoy kissed Rose Weasley on the lips, and she didn't pull away. She kissed him back.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, but he held back, deliberately. This wasn't meant to lead into anything more. This was a statement, a close-mouthed declaration of intent, that this time he was Scorpius and she was Rose and they both knew exactly what they were doing.

And then she broke it off. "Not like this," she muttered, taking two quick steps away from him.

What?

"We should talk, Scorpius."

He didn't see talking and kissing as necessarily mutually exclusive. But he nodded anyway, and one more of the knots in his stomach started to evaporate. Edgar had been worrying him for much too long now.

"I..." He stopped, trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say. "This started before I started having trouble at work. I didn't mean for you to find out. I wanted - I wanted us to be more than friends, but Merlin, Rose, we've been friends since third year! I didn't want to ruin that!"

"You wanted to ask me out, so you deliberately got me interested in other guys?"

It wasn't like that. "I resent that. It was an experiment. To see what you liked. Figure out the most effective way of wooing you."

She giggled. "Trust you to take the scientific approach." Her expression sobered. "But you had to have known that I wouldn't react the same way to you as I did to all of those other guys."

"So you wouldn't have kissed me?" he asked drily.

"Don't be ridiculous." She kissed him softly, but he could tell she was holding something back. "You're my best friend, Scorpius. Edgar Spore might be basically you, but I don't have ten years of history with him, do I?"

"You're afraid of that ten years of history, aren't you?"

She didn't answer.

He pressed on. "The other night. When we danced. You ran away, admit it."

"Thought you'd already worked it out?"

He'd had his suspicions. But there was a difference between hoping and dreaming and actually hearing the words from her mouth. "It makes sense now, I suppose. You wanted to try it out, didn't you? Be with me without actually being with me."

"I didn't want you to find out this way."

"I didn't want you to find out about me at all, so I think we're even."

She smiled, and when she took his hand in hers he grinned back. "I worried you'd think I was - you know."

"What?"

"You know what I mean. I hardly knew Spore or Knightley before I started coming onto them. You must have thought I was -"

"A bit forward?" She nodded. "No man in his right mind thinks twice when a beautiful woman starts grinding up against him."

"You're different, though."

He liked that she thought that. "What do you mean?"

"Old-fashioned. Shy. Honorable."

"I'm not shy!"

She snorted. "That's why it took you three years to ask me out, I suppose."

He decided not to mention all the years before they'd left Hogwarts. "I didn't notice you making any moves on me."

"I didn't think you were interested." He looked up, and realised she'd retreated back into her shell. "Why would you be interested in your best friend? You could have anyone you wanted."

He snorted. "Trust me, that's not the case." And then he stopped. "Wait a minute. Were you..."

"I wanted to make you jealous," she said in a rush. "That's why I went dancing with Knightley that night. And then I saw Finch, and I knew he'd tell you he'd seen me, and -"

Dammit. He pulled her up to him, first into a hug and then into one of the sloppiest kisses he'd ever given. She pulled back, laughing, to wipe her mouth. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll do that properly next time."

She kissed him back before he had the chance, and something inside him wriggled with delight. She'd wanted him - Merlin, she'd deliberately set out to make him notice her, and now she was kissing him out of her own free will.

"Do you want to keep talking, or...?"

"I'm good," she whispered, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

What? "I don't expect -"

She stopped, then looked up at him. "I want to."

"I want to do this properly," he said quickly. Obviously _he_ wasn't a sane man.

"It's not like we haven't done this before." She smiled up at him, and he shivered as she ran her fingers down his chest.

It was harder than he thought to push her away. "You know what I mean. I don't want this to just be a –"

"This could never be just a one-night thing, Scorpius."

That wasn't what he meant. He suddenly needed her to know that he wanted more from her than just - He was serious about this, dammit, even if his ridiculous scheme said otherwise...

How could he convince her that he didn't just want to jump into bed with her? His heart sped up as he watched her, eyes wide as she waited for his response. His mother's reminders from Saturday night flashed into his mind, but he forced that particular thought right out again.

For now.

He turned to face her directly. He took both her hands in his, looked straight at her and somehow managed not to feel like an idiot. But he had to say this, had to make her realise how much he liked her –

Loved her.

An image appeared in his mind. Rose standing in her kitchen, a roast in the oven, as Scorpius pushed open the door, boater in hand, shouting out a _honey-I'm-home_. He grinned. Except that Rose would be more likely to be scribbling down notes on her latest case than bringing out the old apron, and his purposeful nineteen-fifties stride would probably be better described as a distracted amble...

"Scorpius?"

The vision was wonderful. He could only stare at her blankly, all thought of what he'd been about to say having fled. He clutched her hands in his, hoping that somehow she'd realise what he wanted to tell her.

His entire chest was shaking, his heart feeling impossibly full at the realisation of how much he wanted to...

Not stuff this up.

Rose let go of his hands. "I'm happy to go slow if you want to."

He gaped at her. And then he pulled her into his arms.

She wanted to do this. "I love you," he mumbled into her hair, and for a moment he thought she hadn't heard.

But then she stiffened, and he panicked. "Don't say anything," he said sharply. He shouldn't have said that, dammit, not after he'd just told her he wanted to take this slowly.

He tightened his hold around her, and she relaxed against his chest. "I want to do this properly," he repeated. "Take you out, introduce you to my family..."

"Woo me?" she finished, laughing.

"I could court you, if you prefer?"

She pushed herself away, her arms still around his neck. "I'd like that." She leaned in and kissed him softly on the neck. "I'd like it even more if you stayed tonight. We don't have to do anything you don't want to –"

"Trust me, it's not a question of not wanting to."

"Then why don't we just take it as it comes?"

She made as if to drag him inside, but he had to make this absolutely clear. They'd – he'd – been dancing around each other for too long now for him to let this slide.

"This is us," he said quietly. "Scorpius and Rose. No secrets. No disguises. No pretending this is –" He broke off. "I want to – be with you. Go out with you. Dammit, that's not what I want to say..."

She looked up at him, and the look in her eyes reassured him.

"You know this is serious, right? That I'm serious about you, and this whole thing? Even though I've been such an idiot with this whole Edgar thing?" She was nodding and laughing, but for some reason he couldn't stop babbling. "I meant what I said about this not being a temporary thing. I want this to go on. I'm not saying I want to marry you – I mean, not that I don't want to marry you, it's just – maybe one day –"

"Scorpius."

"What?"

"You're being adorably, ridiculously awkward –" she swept him into a kiss, and he grinned stupidly – "and if you ever do decide to propose to me, I expect a better effort than that one. Now, are you going to stop overthinking things and kiss me, or are we going to stand out here all night while you angst over your feelings?"

That wasn't even a question.

* * *

><p>For the second time in as many days Scorpius Malfoy woke up feeling contented. This time probably even more so than the last, because a warm bed is a lot more comfortable than a couch shared between two people.<p>

"Good morning," came Rose's voice from somewhere to his left. She wriggled closer and he rolled over, pulling her body towards him.

He kissed her lazily. "Good morning to you, too."

"Much as I'd like to continue this conversation," she whispered back, her hands moving in very interesting ways under the blanket, "my alarm is going to go off any minute now, and I have a feeling you have a big day at work today..."

Work.

"What's the time?"

She glanced at the clock. "Half eight. I go to work late on Tuesdays -"

He swore, rolling away from her, and stared up at the ceiling. He had to stop Time for goddamn Flint in half an hour, and he still had no idea what the hell he was going to say.

He leaned over and gave her a hard kiss on the lips. "I have to go."

Her eyes widened as he got out of the bed. "I'm so sorry, Scorp - I completely didn't think -"

"It's not your fault."

Blaming Rose didn't change the fact that he'd had three years to prepare for this one day. It wasn't her fault he'd been relying on those last few hours.

He pulled on yesterday's clothes. There wasn't time to go back to his place to change, and besides, he couldn't just leave Rose...

"You can't wear that. Here, I've got one of your shirts somewhere, Edgar's robes are far too big for you –"

As if to prove her point, Edgar's too-large coat slipped from his shoulders, the pockets emptying onto the floor. Dammit! He was already late –

He bent to pick up his wallet, some papers, and... what was that?

"Didn't I give this to you?"

He looked up, and a flash of deja vu rushed through him. That day outside the Ministry, when he'd fallen at her feet...

_"I think you dropped this," she said carefully, handing him a small object. "I'm sorry again for bumping into you."_

The spring.

He felt an illogical jolt of embarrassment. Now she'd know he'd carried it around with him, like some sort of stupid token of her affection.

"I'm glad you kept this."

"It wasn't mine," he said, feeling the need to admit the truth. "I didn't drop it that day."

"I know." She winked at him, handing him the shirt she'd fetched for him. "I gave it to you deliberately."

"What?"

"Just to be sure it was you. And I was right, wasn't I?"

He frowned. "How did you know I wouldn't just throw it away?"

She laughed, and gave her bedside table – and her wand – a speaking glance. "Let's just say I didn't leave it to chance."

"So that's why I haven't been able to stop thinking about the damn thing!"

"Aw, give it here. I think it's served its purpose, wouldn't you say?" She reached for her wand, but he held out a hand to stop her.

"I rather like having it around, actually." He gave it an experimental pull, and it sprung back immediately. After all this time it still hadn't lost its stretch.  
>"It reminds me of you."<p>

"You know, most people just carry a locket."

"Any reason I can't have both? Besides, this is much more fun to play with..."

And then he froze.

How had he not made the connection before? He'd literally sat there, playing with this spring and wondering how to solve his trainee project, and the whole time the answer had been right in front of him. He'd been right about Muggle science being the answer, but in a way he never would have expected. Merlin, a three-year-old could have thought about it –

"Scorpius?"

Rose's voice came to him through a mist, his mind still working through the details of his theory.

"Scorpius, put your shirt on, you have to go to work –"

Work! He shoved on his shirt and threw Edgar's coat over his shoulder. "My meeting's at nine," he said, and kissed her before she could stop him. "And when I get out of it I might be unemployed. I love you!"

He sprinted to her front door, and just as he spun out of existence he saw her gaping face in the living room.

Well, he hadn't said this courtship was going to be normal, had he?

* * *

><p>He saw the clipboard before he saw Flint himself.<p>

"Malfoy! I see you've decided to grace us with your presence."

It was nine o'clock on the dot, as evidenced by the several hundred clocks surrounding them, and Scorpius had no compunction telling Flint exactly that.

"Never mind," Flint said easily, making as though to pat Scorpius on the back. Scorpius deflected the motion with a wave to the old man behind him. Merlin, what was his name? He'd met him yesterday, with Finch, and he seemed nice enough, but...

"Mr Malfoy, this is Samuel Davies. He'll be observing the interview today."

Finch hadn't said anything about having observers!

Dammit, he was nervous again. He thanked the gods he'd had the presence of mind to leave his papers at his desk yesterday afternoon.

"I've prepared some notes on my activities in the Department for the last three years," he said clearly – or he hoped he did, anyway. Flint's mocking stare wasn't doing much to help his composure.

Flint waved his hand lazily. "There'll be plenty of time for that later, Mr Malfoy. No pun intended, of course." Scorpius smiled politely. "But I've been looking forward to seeing your demonstration all evening, so why don't you start with that?"

Scorpius couldn't resist playing dumb. "A demonstration of the results of my trainee project, sir?"

"What else? You know what you're supposed to do. I want to see you -" he paused dramatically, for no reason at all - "stop Time itself."

Scorpius smiled slightly. "I'm afraid that'll be impossible."

"So you can't do it?" The gleam in Flint's eye was insufferable. Scorpius could practically see the line going through his name as he spoke. He was treading a fine line here, but the breakthrough had him sitting on edge, his heart racing as he balanced the tightrope –

"Nobody can. It's a physical impossibility."

Behind Flint, Samuel Davies sat up a little straighter, his gaze sharpening on Scorpius. "Go on," he said slowly.

Flint narrowed his eyes, but Davies couldn't see. "You mean to tell me you've been sitting in this lab for –" he checked his clipboard – "three years, and all you've managed to conclude is that if you can't do it, no-one can."

"He's not finished," Davies said sharply, and Scorpius watched the two of them with interest. Maybe he'd misjudged their respective positions...

He swallowed, and resumed his presentation, unable to resist aiming it at Davies rather than Flint. "I can explain two ways of approximately stopping Time, though."

Flint snorted. "Slowing it down doesn't count."

"Gods, Flint, would you shut up and let the boy explain?"

Scorpius looked at him gratefully. Davies nodded impatiently, and waved for him to continue. "Go on, Scorpius."

"Do you mind if I go over some of the background first?"

Davies shrugged, glancing dismissively at Flint. "Some of us here are clearly not up to date with the latest temporal research, so that's probably wise under the circumstances. As for me, go right ahead. Just try to get to the point quickly, okay? I haven't had breakfast yet."

Finch took offence to that. "Who's running this interview?" he blustered, and Davies surrendered the floor to him with a small bow – and a wink at Scorpius, who grinned, suddenly reassured. Maybe his fate wasn't in the hands of Flint, after all...

"There are two ways we know of to change the normal passage of time," Scorpius said quickly. "Obviously Time-Turners, the most common way, and then there's the Bell Jar. Time-Turners don't stop the passing of time, or even its rate – they merely shift the –" What was the phrase? An image of his grandmother's old music player floated into his mind. "They lift the needle of the record player and place it back down somewhere in the past. And Time continues on, with two copies this time of the operator."

He stopped, but Flint and Davies were still listening. "I'm going to make the point that the only way to stop Time – effectively, if not actually –" he was rather proud of that phrase, for something he'd made up on the spot – "is by repetitive application of techniques we already have -"

"Time-turners go through Time at the same pace as everything else, there's no way you could use them to stop Time."

Yes, he'd just said that. "Which in and of itself is actually not a problem, Mr Flint. The problem is that Time-Turners result in a copy of the operator, and I don't know how well the fabric of the universe could cope with that. Merlin, especially if we made it recursive..."

Davies coughed. "I believe you might be wandering from that point of yours."

"Sorry, sir, I get carried away sometimes. Anyway, I've written down my thoughts on the matter, you can read them if you're interested."

"Your point."

"I don't think Time-Turners are the answer," Scorpius said bluntly, and Davies gave him an approving smile. "I think we should look at the Bell Jar for ideas."

Davies gave him a curious look. "No-one remembers how the Bell Jar was constructed. Or enchanted, for that matter."

"I may or may not have mentioned that my ideas can't all be put into practice with the Ministry's current resources."

Flint snorted, finally finding a topic he could relate to. "This Department wastes enough money as it stands. We're not squandering money on intern projects."

"I'm a trainee, not an intern," Scorpius said sharply – and immediately regretted it. Just because Davies was prepared to listen to his ideas didn't mean the interview was in the bag.

"Why don't we talk theory, then?" Davies suggested, before Flint could inject a reply. "There's no need to bother Mr Flint with talk of dull practicalities like money."

And here was his big moment. "Watch the Jar as it reaches the end of a cycle. It's like a spring, going backwards and forwards. But more importantly watch the _rate_, Mr Flint, how it slows down at the ends – there it goes, now – slower, slower, _slower_ – and now it returns, slowly but forward, and faster and faster..."

Davies was excited now. "And –"

"- It stops. Time itself just stopped inside that jar."

Flint opened his mouth in shock. Then closed it just as swiftly. "Come now, Mr Malfoy, you can hardly expect to claim credit for that. Besides, it only happened for a second -"

"Merlin's _arse_, stick to accounts and shut up, will you?"

Scorpius gaped at Davies. He had certainly not been expecting that outburst. "Sir...?"

"Not you, Scorpius, gods. I think this man must have been born in a barn, though. No appreciation for the world's mysteries whatsoever. Come, let's go closer."

For once Flint had no slick reply to make. He watched them walk away, to the corner where the old Bell Jar sat in pride of place.

"I was going to say, sir," Scorpius continued, deciding it was best to ignore him for the time being, "that if one could make a smaller and smaller jar -"

Davies frowned. "What do you mean by smaller? You'd still have to fit someone in it, surely -"

He was rubbish at explaining things. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill from his desk. "Not physically smaller. I was thinking more of the - axes? The spokes? The radius?" He scribbled as he spoke, explaining on paper what he couldn't explain in words.

He looked up to see Davies staring at him with a look of - admiration? Slowly, Davies reached for the parchment, his eyes still fixed on Scorpius.

Then he looked down. "You see Time in two dimensions?" he asked curiously.

What? Not necessarily, but - what an interesting idea! "No," he admitted. "That is - I've never thought about it. Anyway, sir, about stopping Time -"

"I think know what you're trying to say..."

Scorpius nodded eagerly, the pieces tumbling together as he spoke. "The Bell Jar is like a wheel trapped in the timeline. And it cycles through an object's life - yes, that's it, the object's lifetime is the radius of the wheel, and if you made it small enough -"

Davies snapped his fingers. "Like a smooth version of a series of Time-Turners going back to the same time."

"That's why I think of it in two dimensions. But it doesn't matter, really, does it? It could be a constant spinning circle, it could be a - a spring bouncing up and down, it's all just a different way of looking at it -"

Davies stopped suddenly, and strode back to Flint.

The old fear returned. He _knew_ he was onto something. This had to be the secret, it absolutely had to be, and he was ninety percent convinced Davies agreed - but Davies wasn't the one making the decision.

Flint was.

And Scorpius had the feeling he was not in Flint's good books at the moment.

He watched them confer, unable to hear what they were saying. The last knots in his stomach clenched up and multiplied - and then Flint turned around and called his name.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Scorpius stepped out of the clanking elevator and into the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic.<p>

Rose Weasley was waiting for him.

She leapt up from her bench when she saw him. Scorpius couldn't help but notice it was the same bench where she'd met Edgar Spore, and he wondered if it was a coincidence. She ran to him, her eyes searching his face for signs of what had happened.

"How did it go?" she asked, too casually.

He told her the truth. "Flint didn't like me."

"Flint...?" Her eyes widened. "Your new boss?"

"The one I told you about last night."

"And you didn't make it, did you?"

He didn't answer. She took one look at his face and threw herself at him, enveloping him in an embrace that almost strangled him with its power.

"I don't care, Scorpius Malfoy," she said against his chest. "Don't you _dare_ think you're getting away after what happened last night. You said you were serious, dammit, you said you'd stick with me, with us, I'm not letting you run away again -"

She pulled away, dragging her hands up to his cheeks, and looked straight at him. "I love you, Scorpius Malfoy. Not your job."

"That's good," Scorpius murmured, pulling her back into the hug. "Because my job is not currently on the market."

She stilled.

And looked up at him. "You mean...?"

"I'm not fired." He grinned, suddenly, madly, and gave into an urge he'd had since Davies and Flint had first given him the news. He picked her up by the waist and swung her around, uncaring of who might see them. "In fact," he whispered in her ear, setting her down again, "I got a promotion."

And as a full-blown Unspeakable, he probably shouldn't have admitted that.

He knew he was still grinning like an idiot, but it was impossible to stop. He'd gotten a promotion. Somehow managed to land a job on Davies' research team. Admitted he was crazy in love with his best friend.

And she was in love with him.

"Say it again," he demanded.

She stepped back. "Say what?"

"You know what, you little minx."

She laughed, a twinkle in her eye as she crooked her finger at him. "Come here, my little spell monkey."

"Let's be absolutely clear on who you mean..."

"I love you, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Got anything to say about that?"

Scorpius Malfoy had never been a man of words. So he kissed her instead.


End file.
